


A Saturated Sunrise

by wordslinger



Series: Beautiful Disaster [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: His hair clashed with the colors of the sunrise but Erza decided she liked blue just as much as he liked red. Sometimes she thought the over saturation of color to be the onlyrealthing left in the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original intent of this story was for it to stay as a one-shot but I can't leave it alone. I suppose it's a flight of fancy to distract me from other things that aren't coming out so well, but it doesn't really matter because here we are.
> 
> This is pretty dark. I've changed the summary/tags to reflect these things but I'll be exploring subjects that aren't for the faint of heart.
> 
>  
> 
> **Content warnings for rape mentions and references, self harm, suicide, hospitalization, medications, mental illness, and possible misuse of prescription medications.**

            Erza picked at the bandages on her wrist and arms. She didn’t like how the medications took away her ability to feel. There was only a dull ache now. One side of her mind wanted desperately to sleep, the other was terrified of the venom finding it’s way into her bloodstream again. The serpent haunted her dreams and its teeth had a craving for her skin. She still wasn’t sure if the snake was real or if the poison was real or if _anything_ was real. The last thing she _truly_ remembered feeling was the utter horror and despair of her mother’s tears and the many arms caging her and pulling the little paring knife – the first knife she’d seen in the drawer – from her hands.

            This room was real enough. Erza knew every inch of it. She’d searched it from corner to ceiling on her first night. And again every night since. She thought maybe it had been a week of nights. Or maybe two?

            In Erza’s dreams she had an entire arsenal of knives and other blades. She could pull them out of nowhere. The violent purple of the serpent’s body was the brightest color she saw anymore – and even that was only in her memory. Her doctor wanted her to talk about what happened but none of Erza’s explanations pleased him. Every session was an ocean of words and Erza felt like she was drowning in them. Now that her head was the topic of every conversation, Erza couldn’t help but wonder if anything she’d ever imagined or conjured or dreamed was part of the problem. Was Other Erza something she’d made up on her own to help her feel strong when she was helpless part of the cure or the disease? She didn’t know. The worst part of everything, except for the dull swamp of her thoughts, was hurting her mother.

            Erza’s feet began to shuffle in a familiar circle. She catalogued her room once more.

* * *

 

            The sun hurt her eyes but she wanted to feel it. The way her arms itched under the bandages meant something was healing but Erza felt like she should’ve felt the pain before the itch.

            “Hey.”

            Erza spun around and nearly slid off the edge of the picnic table bench. The boy’s smile was crooked and wide. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. A curl of smoke rose from the cigarette in his hand and she could see his fingers were dusted with something other than cigarette ash. Something grey or black.

            “You aren’t supposed to smoke out here,” she said weakly.

            “No?” He feigned shock.

            “No, there’s a sign right there on the wall.”

            “My bad.” But he made no move to snuff it out. “Does it bother you?”

            “Not really.” Erza shrugged and turned back around to face the table and leaned forward to rest her chin on folded arms.

            “You’re the girl with the snake thing, yeah?”

            Erza bristled. It wasn’t untrue but she didn’t care for his nonchalance with her personal information. “I guess.”

            “Intrusive dreams can be a real bitch.” Erza heard his feet crushing the grass and she jumped when he plopped onto the bend across the table from her. “Not everyone wakes up thinking they’re real and hacks themselves to bits, though.”

            “I didn’t hack myself to bits,” Erza insisted.

            “No?” He reached out and touched the bandages that littered her arms.

            “I’m still in one piece. Not bits.”

            “Why’d you do it?” He leaned across the table and folded his hands in his lap. Erza glared at him. She’d seen this boy before wandering the halls of the hospital wing, lounging on the couches in the common room, and leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling instead of paying attention in group therapy. His hair was a perpetual mess and a tattoo scrawled across the right side of his face. He didn’t _seem_ like he was prodding her for any other reason than pure curiosity but trust wasn’t a thing Erza gave lightly.

            “I don’t know. It felt real at the time.”

            “Like a hallucination?”

            “No. Like it followed me out of my dream. I don’t know.”

            “You seemed to know in the moment. I was here when they brought you in.”

            “I don’t remember,” Erza snapped. “Why are _you_ here?”

            “Because I’m crazy.” He shrugged casually. “Sometimes I’m me, sometimes I’m… _more._ Sometimes less. Something else.”

            “What are you right now?”

            “Just me.” He smiled again and Erza wanted to hate it. She didn’t want this nosey boy who smoked where he wasn’t supposed to, this _rule breaker,_ to know anything about her. But she _didn’t_ hate it. His smile was the best thing she’d seen in weeks.

            “And when you aren’t just you?”

            He laughed once and his smile faded. “I’m… unmanageable.”

            “Your meds don’t help?”

            “Sometimes,” he said, smiling again. “But I don’t like taking them. The world isn’t meant to be so grey.”

            “You don’t like grey?” Erza asked, finally allowing herself a small grin.

            “No. I like red.”

* * *

 

            Unmanageable was an understatement. Two days later the boy with the crooked smile and tattoo was pulled off the roof of the hospital. She could hear him shouting an entire hall away.

            He wanted to fly, he screamed. He wanted to touch the stars.

* * *

 

            The next time she saw him, he was stretched across a window ledge that wasn’t meant to be a seat. His hands were folded behind his head and his ankles crossed casually. Rain pelted the windows and he looked lost in the storm.

            “My dad was here,” he said in a low voice that the rain nearly drowned out.

            “Because of the roof thing?”

            “He thinks I’m like my mom was.”

            “Are you?”

            The boy’s gaze fell to his fingertips. He pressed his thumb and forefinger together and smeared the remnants of whatever it was that dirtied them together.

            “Yeah,” he whispered. “I am.”

            Erza leaned awkwardly against the wall near his feet. He didn’t turn to her for a long moment and when he did, she missed his smile immediately. It was obvious he could see nothing but grey.

* * *

 

            Her mother pushed the box across the table with a smile Erza hated. It was fake. A fake smile meant to lighten a mood that was too heavy for the effort.

            “I cleared it with your doctor but I thought you might like them.” Eileen tilted her head, her smile fading. “Don’t you want to open it?”

            “Sorry,” Erza muttered. She suddenly felt like crying. Inside the box was a handful of her favorite strawberry Jolly Ranchers. She always kept a bag of them in her bedside table at home.

            “I thought maybe you’d like to have something sweet.” Eileen twisted her fingers together. “You don’t have to take them, Erza.”

            “Thank you, mom,” she whispered around the tears. She didn’t _want_ to be the sad girl in the hospital. She didn’t _want_ to wake up in the middle of the night so afraid like Other Erza wasn’t. She didn’t _want_ to hack herself to bits, as the boy with the tattoo called it. “I love them.”

            “Oh, honey.” Eileen slid onto the bench next to her and brought Erza into an embrace. Her mother smelled the exact same as she always did and it was a scent she cherished above anything else. Breathing in her mother meant she was _feeling._ “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve only ever wanted to keep you safe. But I can’t save you from what goes on in that head of yours.”

            “I know, mom. I’m trying. I just –” Erza swallowed her tears. “I just need to figure out how to sleep again and it’ll be fine.”

            Eileen pulled back and brushed the damp strands of scarlet from Erza’s face.

            “Do you have everything you need here? You would tell me if you needed something, right? Anything? I’d bring you home if I thought…” Eileen trailed off and Erza felt her mother’s gaze so strongly she almost broke completely.

            “It’s not safe at home, mom. Even here I’m afraid.” She shook her head. “What if I woke up again and – sometimes when I haven’t slept and finally doze off I… I see things.”

            Eileen hid her expression by pressing a kiss to Erza’s forehead. A nurse passed by and tapped her fingers on the table. Their time was nearly up.

            “I’ll be back on Wednesday, okay? I have a short trip and I’ll stop by as soon as I get off the plane.”

            “Okay, mom.” Erza poked at the box of candies. “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome, love.” Eileen brought her into a final crushing hug and stood. Erza didn’t watch her go but she listened to her heels click all the way across the floor.

* * *

 

            She found him under the outdoor cover in a position much like she’d been when he found her first. His body was hunched over his arms and he drew circles with his fingers on the tabletop. Rain still fell in sheets and Erza vaguely wondered how her mother’s plane would fare later that evening. She’d always preferred the redeye flights.

            Erza stepped over the table bench and watched him watching the rain. She thought maybe she only understood a little of his low. Numbness was no longer a stranger but to lose everything…

            “I’m tired,” he whispered. “I fell asleep earlier but I’m still tired.”

            “I’m jealous,” she joked. “I’d love a nap.”

            “Want to get in bed with me?” he said, finally sitting up and glancing over at her. His smile was hollow. Erza reached out on impulse and touched one of the messy strands of hair that brushed his forehead.

            “Maybe some other time,” she whispered. He nodded and folded in on himself again. Erza swung her leg over the bench and the candy box in her pocket stabbed her thigh. On yet another impulse she pulled out the box and shook two of the candies into her palm. He didn’t flinch or move when she slid them into his pocket before leaving him alone at the table.

* * *

 

            Erza bolted upright in her bed and felt the cool air swirl around her damp skin. The serpent hadn’t come for her this time but a woman. A terrifying beast of a woman with claws and horns. Erza sucked in deep breaths but still couldn’t quite breathe. Her skin crackled with whatever the woman in her dreams had done to her. First pain then pleasure. Both equally horrific.

            The floor was slick against the soles of her feet but Erza couldn’t be bothered with things like socks or slippers. She left her room behind for the toilets and emptied her stomach. More cold water on her face and the startling taste of her toothpaste left her shivering. The scabs on her arms itched. She wanted to scratch them raw and make everything bleed all over again. Maybe the serpent’s poison had already rotted her from the inside out. Erza backed away from the row of mirrors and sank down to the floor. She wasn’t sure if the numbness was worse than the cold that gripped her.

            “Hey,” a voice called from what sounded like ten million miles away. His warm hand on her arm felt better than anything else. “Hey, red.”

            “What?” she gasped. She wanted to wipe away her tears but couldn’t unclench her fists. “What are you doing in the women’s bathroom?”

            “I could ask you the same question. It’s dark and cold and you’re wet.” He grinned. “Did you fall in?”

            “No,” she whispered as if his question had been serious.

            “Bad dream?”

            “Yeah.”

            His hand closed all the way around her arm and he pulled her to her feet. Once she stood, he slid his hands into his pockets.

            “You need some help? I can call a nurse.”

            “No, please don’t do that. I don’t want to take anything else tonight. I’m tired but I think I’m done sleeping.” She blinked. “What are you doing out of your room?”

            He shrugged. “I wanted a smoke.”

            “In the middle of the night?”

            “I woke up and felt the urge.” The boy backed toward the door. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”

            Erza followed him down the hallway and felt the cold creep back into her with every step she took toward her room. “Can we go somewhere else?” she blurted quickly. This boy seemed to bring out her impulses.

            “Like?”

            “Anywhere else. If I go back to my room I’ll just pace and look again.”

            “Look?” He raised one eyebrow.

            “Yeah,” Erza fumbled her words. She hadn’t meant to admit she still searched her room for hidden things with poisonous fangs. The boy shrugged again and took a left at the fork in the hallway instead of a right. Without a second thought Erza followed him into his own room – which was starkly different than hers.

            His walls were covered from floor to ceiling with sketchpad pages. He drew with charcoals and it explained why his fingers were always vaguely dusted. The images were mostly landscapes and faces of a woman she didn’t recognize. He quickly crossed the room and shut the open pad of paper on the small desk.

            “I didn’t know you were an artist,” she whispered, turning around to see the full scope of his work.

            “You never asked, red.”

            “It’s Erza.”

            “I know.”

            When she tore her gaze from the walls to look at him, he smiled. Not the grey smile but the one she’d seen before. The one that liked red.

            “Thanks for the candy. I think sugar makes me want to smoke sometimes.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Why?”

            “I hope it didn’t keep you awake.”

            “I’m on ten million different meds, candy would never keep me awake if I didn’t want to be.”

            “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said awkwardly.

            He grinned and stood directly in front of her. Before she could stop him his fingers were curling strands of her ponytail.

            “It comes and goes. One day I’ll find the mid-point and level out.”

            “Did your mom figure it out?” She hadn’t meant to ask such a personal question but he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened.

            “No, she didn’t but I like to think she’d be proud of me for trying.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            He shrugged and inched closer. “The world isn’t better when we pretend things are different than they are.”

            “How can you be so brutally honest and still smile like that?”

            His laugh fanned across her face and Erza could smell the strawberry Jolly Ranchers on his breath along with cigarette smoke.

            “Because I don’t like being miserable, red.”

            When he kissed her it was both a surprise and a relief. Erza hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him to kiss her until he did. His lips were soft but his kisses weren’t. Everything Erza thought was dead inside of her came to life. She clutched at his shoulders and a desperate sound clawed its way from her throat.

            Their pajamas were both the same pale blue and mingled in one heap on the floor. His bed wasn’t as soft as hers but Erza welcomed the firm press of his mattress against her back and his chest against her front. His greedy fingers and palms claimed every inch of her skin.

            Erza wasn’t a virgin but she wasn’t exactly an expert lover. She didn’t consider sex to be a thing she craved or _needed._ Every other experience had been planned. _Controlled._ This boy, just as unstable as her, was neither. His body was hard with muscle but his skin was smooth. Erza hadn’t ever wanted anything as much as she wanted to drown in his kisses and the way he made her heart pound so fast it almost hurt.

            She gasped when his fingers found her wet and waiting. When he slid inside of her it was with a practiced fluidity – or maybe she was too drunk on the sensation to feel anything other than total satisfaction. _This_ pleasure was more intense than the clawed woman in her dream. It was _real._ His hand moved from her waist to pin her wrist against the bed. He kissed her until Erza thought her lips might bruise.

            The climax was a breathless drop and when she opened her eyes again his eyelashes were still brushing the apples of his cheeks. She pressed her lips to his and felt a final pulse of excitement leave her body when his tongue sought hers.

            “What’s your name?” she whispered into the space of humid air between them.

            “Jellal.” He rolled off her and brought her with him onto her side. His fingers touched the naked skin of her shoulder and pried the ropes of scarlet away. “Will you stay for a bit?”

            Erza watched him watching her and slid her arm over his hip. “Yeah.”

            His eyes drooped sleepily but he smiled anyway. “Did I tell you before that I really like your hair?”

            She left him before his eyes opened again.

* * *

 

            The sunrise was like an oversaturated photograph. Rays of orange and red and yellow bled together and reflected off the scattering rain clouds. She smelled his cigarette smoke before she saw him.

            “You missed breakfast,” she muttered, not looking away from the horizon.

            “These new meds make it hard to wake up.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be.”

            He took a sat across from her. His hair clashed with the colors of the sunrise but Erza decided she liked blue just as much as he liked red.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a temporary note to remind anyone returning for the update and not reading the story for the first time!
> 
> The original intent of this story was for it to stay as a one-shot but I can't leave it alone. I suppose it's a flight of fancy to distract me from other things that aren't coming out so well, but it doesn't really matter because here we are.
> 
> This is pretty dark. I've changed the summary/tags to reflect these things but I'll be exploring subjects that aren't for the faint of heart.
> 
>  
> 
> **Content warnings for rape mentions and references, self harm, suicide, hospitalization, medications, mental illness, and possible misuse of prescription medications.**

            “What happened next?” Doctor Dreyar wasn’t a large man but perfectly typical. He had neatly combed blonde hair and was absolutely non-threatening in every way. His expression always stood carefully blank during their sessions but he gave the impression of both unquestioning belief in anything said to him, and deep skepticism.

            Erza hated him.

            She didn’t like the juxtaposition. It felt false. Like he was leading her on but… also not. Opening herself up to him proved difficult. She knew this was unfair but that knowledge did nothing to stop her irritation.

            “Uh, I went home for the weekend and fell asleep in my bed.” Erza itched at the still-pink scab remnants on her arms.

            “And then you dreamed of the purple serpent and venom?”

            “Yes.”

            “So you went straight from your last class of the day, with no bags packed whatsoever, to your family’s home and to bed?”

            “I – I guess.”

            “You aren’t sure?”

            “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty sure, though.”

            Doctor Dreyar shifted in his seat but betrayed nothing. His pen scratched over the pad of paper balanced on his knee.

            “Miss Scarlet, you’ve been with us for almost two months now. My job is to evaluate your situation and try to facilitate a treatment plan.”

            Erza fidgeted and tried to pay attention.

            “At this point we’re well beyond what I’d consider a brief psychotic disorder. Typically that kind of behavior is triggered by extreme stress or trauma and recovery clocks in at just under a month or so. What I’m seeing here is not dissimilar but with the added symptoms of hallucinations, delusions, and prolonged disruptive dreams.” He gestured to her arms. “The self-harm is also of deep concern.”

            “I don’t understand what you mean. Are you sending me home?”

            “Is that what you want? You’re legally an adult. Your mother holds legal medical surrogacy but I’ve never gotten the impression from her that she’d prevent your return if that’s what you truly wanted.”

            “I’m afraid to go home.”

            “What about school? Have you ever had these kinds of episodes at school? Maybe on a smaller scale?”

            Erza’s eyebrows drew together and she tried to shuffle through her thoughts. If her memories were like playing cards, she felt as though some of them were stuck together. Her head hurt. She itched at her arms again and focused on the row of framed degrees behind Doctor Dreyar.

            “Miss Scarlet,” he said firmly, suddenly very close. His hand closed around her wrist. “You’re bleeding.”

            “What?” Erza’s eyes fell to her arm and she was shocked to see she’d torn open the fragile knitting of skin over the scabs. Her fingernails had grown out just enough to have blood beneath them. “I –”

            “This compulsive itching is a thing I’ve noticed before but today you broke your skin. We were discussing school.”

            “I don’t remember.” She stared at the blood drying on her fingernails and felt like vomiting. “I need to wash my hands,” Erza whispered.

            “Of course. Let’s get you to the nurse’s station and they’ll see what can be done about your arm.” Doctor Dreyar stood and ushered Erza from his office. He watched as the nurse down the hall cleaned the laceration, dabbed at it with disinfectant, and then clipped her fingernails right down to the quick.

            “I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” the nurse muttered. “But new bandages will be necessary. If this continues we’ll need to be on the lookout for an infection.”

            “I’m sorry.” Erza swung from wanting to vomit to swallowing back her tears. The humiliation of tearing her own arm open and not even _realizing_ it made her feel small and childish.

            “Miss Scarlet, we’ll continue our session this evening. I’d like it if you thought about our conversation. Any recollections you might have will be useful. We’ll also discuss your medication regimen.”

            “Thank you,” she whispered. Erza glanced up at him and watched him turn to go. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a prescription pad in his coat pocket. _Dr. Yuri Dreyar, M.D._ It wasn’t important but Erza fixated on it.

* * *

 

            The cloud of cigarette smoke wasn’t a scent she relished but the person who came along with it made the stench tolerable. He reached for her hand and ran his thumb over the blunt edges of her fingernails. Erza watched the smoke rise and curl gracefully from the end of his cigarette.

            “When did you get back?” she asked over the sound of the rain. Inside the building it could barely be heard but outside the steady patter was calming. The square of cement was framed by muddy water that inched from the grass beyond. Erza thought maybe she could relate to the pavement.

            “Just now.”

            “Did you have a nice weekend?” The question was awkwardly hollow. She glanced over at him to see his cheek was pink and abraded, and a sloppily stuck bandage covered his opposite wrist, along with the back of his hand. He grinned at her in the crooked way she’d grown fond of.

            “Not really.” He knocked the end of his cigarette with his thumb and didn’t bother to brush away the ash that fell to the surface of the picnic table. “My dad says I’m exasperating when I’m not myself.” The smoke in his mouth muted the sound of his laughter. “This mix of medication isn’t my favorite.”

            “What happened to your face?”

            “Got in a fight.”

            “And your hand?”

            “New tattoo. I think it’s fucked up, though.”

            “How’d you do that?”

            “Got in a fight.” She glanced up at him again but this time he wasn’t smiling. “What happened to your arm?”

            “I don’t know.” Erza scowled at her arm and the bandages that were too _white._ Too _bright._ “I had a session yesterday and I felt itchy.”

            Jellal was silent for a long moment before he flipped the cigarette butt around in his fingers and aimed it toward a creeping puddle of water. It fizzled out quickly.

            “Gotta be more careful, red.”

            “I know. It wasn’t on purpose.”

            He smiled at her and leaned in to brush a kiss over the corner of her mouth. “It never is.”

* * *

 

            His tattoo was an intricate rosary that circled his wrist and ended on the back of his hand with a crucifix. The crucifix itself was black and white with what she assumed to be only the first layer of shading; the beads were different. Almost another style entirely – unlined and brightly colored like cloisonné. The ink smudged a little at the base of his hand but beyond that, Erza thought the art beautiful. Somehow the black and white of the cross only served to emphasize the charcoal and tobacco stains on his fingers. She set aside the bandage and slid her fingers through his.

            “Are you religious?”

            “No.” He ran his empty hand through his hair and then reached over to touch the ends of hers. “My dad is, though. I don’t know why I got the tattoo.”

            Erza peeled back the sheet that covered him at the waist and touched the much older tattoos on his hip. She knew next to nothing about tarot cards but still recognized them for what they were. They’d been inked horizontally and stacked.

            “I got those just after my mom died,” he said as if it were trivial knowledge. The way he fixated on her hair between his fingers meant he needed a moment to process. “She wasn’t a harrower but my grandmother was. The cards were supposedly heirlooms. I think they scared her.”

            “These things only have the power you give them,” Erza muttered tracing her finger around the shape of the cards. This art wasn’t nearly as impressive as the rosary but intrigued her all the same. The top card depicted the moon, and the bottom was a star.

            “Then she gave them too much power.”

            “Why did you put them on your body?”

            “Because I was in a mood. I gave my cousin the deck after my mom was gone and the first time she shuffled them, these fell out. Maybe I thought it meant something.” He sighed and gazed up at her. “I can’t remember.”

            “Why are they sideways?”

            “Because the cards can mean different things depending on whether they’re right side up or upside down. If they’re sideways –”

            “Schrodinger’s tarot reading?” Erza offered jokingly. He smiled and pulled her back down next to him.

            “Something like that.”

            Erza took his wrist again and ran her thumb along the raised skin. “Is it supposed to be so inflamed?”

            “Probably not. I keep meaning to ask for something.” Jellal rolled over on his side and Erza let him peel away the bandages on her arm. “These look a little better.”

            “It still itches.”

            “That’s called _healing,_ red.”

            “I should go soon.” She didn’t like to stay too long. The fear of exposing him to the hellscape of her dreams kept Erza from sleeping in his bed.

* * *

 

            “When you were first admitted, you described a venomous, purple serpent.” Doctor Dreyar didn’t glance through his papers like any other doctor might and Erza thought it should’ve comforted her more than it did. “Since you’ve been here, though, that’s changed.”

            “Yes,” she admitted in a whisper.

            “I’d like to explore that.”

            “Uh, well, there’s a woman sometimes. She’s… not quite human looking.” Erza fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “She has claws.”

            “Does she harm you in the way you’ve stated the serpent harmed you?”

            “She touches me. It’s not the same as with the snake, though. She makes me feel things.”

            Doctor Dreyar’s expression didn’t change.

            “Sometimes it’s horrible. Painful but not poisonous. Other times she, uh, it’s not… horrible.” Erza squirmed in her chair. She didn’t enjoy describing what the woman did to her. It felt dirty and degrading. “It’s good. I mean it’s the opposite of bad.”

            “Could you be a little more specific?”

            “It’s almost…” Erza covered her arm with her hand and squeezed. “It’s a little like sex,” she whispered. “But I hate it.” Embarrassed tears leaked from her eyes and she gripped her arm tighter.

            “Would you describe this as a physical violation?”

            “Yes. But she never… I mean she’s not…” She huffed in frustration, wishing she could spit the words out. They were just _words._

            “Miss Scarlet, what you’re describing sounds a little like an assault.” His expression still didn’t change even as he said the word _assault._ Erza knew the word for what it was. Kinder than _rape._ “I think we should try and focus on the night you had the first dream.”

            Erza felt as if a heavy weight were pressing on her chest. Breathing didn’t come easy.

            “Let’s try and map out your day. We’ll start with when you woke up in the morning.”

            “I had three classes that day,” she said softly, the weight easing off. _These things have already happened,_ she told herself. _They can’t hurt you._ “I had a late breakfast and skipped lunch.”

            “Did you spend time with friends?”

            “Yeah, I think I saw my friend Kagura before my final class.” Erza blinked rapidly, trying to eek out the _safe_ memories. The ones that didn’t make her itch. “She wanted to meet later and talk about Saturday.”

            “So it wasn’t your original plan to drive home to your mother’s for the weekend.”

            Erza blinked. “What?”

            “You said before that you left your final class of the day and drove straight to your mother’s home and went to sleep.”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “You did. Is that not what happened?”

            “No.” The words were sluggish in coming. They stuck to the roof of her mouth and her teeth like her favorite caramel candy. “I was supposed to go to the lake with Kagura and some friends on Saturday. Why would I…” Erza trailed off and absently itched at her arm.

            “What happened after your last class? Where did you go immediately after leaving the lecture hall?”

            “To my dorm.”

            “And what happened next?”

            Erza frowned at the low table between herself and Doctor Dreyar. She stared at the pattern of the grain and wondered if he’d chosen the table himself or if it belonged to the hospital.

            “Miss Scarlet?”

            “Uh, right, I went to get something to eat.” Erza’s eyes focused on her hand – the one resting open on her knee. She remembered the paper wrap of her sandwich. It had a layer of yellow paper and one printed with the logo of the restaurant. There was a white sticker hanging off the corner. It read _No Onions_ in a thick black font. “I had a sandwich,” she whispered. “No onions.”

            “We aren’t in a rush, Miss Scarlet, try and remember what happened.”

            “I was walking and eating.” _No Onions. No Onions. No Onions._ “I had extra tomato and it got on my fingers.” Erza scowled at her fingers now. They were clean of tomato but her forefinger twitched.

            A clap of thunder outside rattled the windows but Erza couldn’t look away from her fingers.

            “He had purple hair,” she muttered.

            “Who had purple hair?”

            “And she had a Halloween mask on, I think. It was like the kind you wear to fancy parties but not really.”

            “A masquerade?” Doctor Dreyar asked carefully.

            “Yeah. I dropped my sandwich and –” Erza paused and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on the purple hair and mask but couldn’t. Instead she remembered a bicycle. Its front wheel stuck up in the air and spun around and around. There were yellow and pink beads that clacked against one another as the wheel slowed. “I don’t know.”

            Doctor Dreyar cleared his throat and tapped the face of his phone that was vibrating on the low table.

            “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, Miss Scarlet, but this is important progress. You seem to have a gap in memories. I’d encourage you to think on it a little but it’s also important we have care of any trauma.”

            “Trauma?”

            “Often, the mind will suppress memories of things that are harmful. Uncovering those memories might aid in your recovery.”

            Erza abruptly stood and fled the office. Doctor Dreyar didn’t stop her.

* * *

 

            When she found him outside, Jellal was grey. His cigarette was a pillar of ash between his fingers and he didn’t acknowledge her at all when she took it and tossed it into the puddles.

            “It’s been raining for days,” she whispered. “I think it’s making my arm itch.”

            Jellal said nothing. He let his hand slid from beneath his chin and fall to his lap where he reached for hers. She let him take her hand and tapped her fingers on the tabletop to try and distract herself from the bicycle wheel in her mind with the pink and yellow beads.

* * *

 

            Erza woke in a pool of blood. It stuck to her hair and soaked the sheets. She screamed until her throat felt shredded. Hands grabbed at her and tried to stay the flailing of her limbs.

            A nurse barked over her shoulder, “Get the ambulance!”

            The room spun even though she couldn’t move. Her skin hurt. Her arm… it didn’t itch anymore. A hand clamped over her wrist and doused her arm in something cold. She thought she screamed again but wasn’t sure.

            Doctor Dreyar’s voice was nearly drowned out by the sounds of wheels squeaking and door slamming shut and the bright red light that nearly blinded her. Erza squeezed her eyes shut but she could still see the hands. They were scarred and the voices narrowed down to two – a man and a woman. They were touching her and Erza felt the horrific sting of the serpent’s fangs and something else. Something _good._

            Her head pounded and she tasted blood. Erza looked away from the man with the scar over his eye and the woman in the mask. All she could see was a toppled bicycle with beads sliding up and down the spokes. _Clack… clack… clack._

* * *

 

            She hadn’t left her room in two days when he walked through the door long after midnight. Erza felt his fingers brushing over the new bandages on her arms and the one on her neck at the base of her skull.

            “I don’t know, red,” he whispered, wiping away a tear she could barely feel. “What can I do?”

            Erza tore her gaze from the high window on the opposite wall. He wasn’t grey today. His smile was sad but felt better than everything else.

            “I hurt myself again,” she whispered. More tears leaked from her eyes and dripped from her chin. “I don’t know what happened to me before but it can’t have been as bad as all this.”

            Jellal’s fingers traced the square shape of the bandage on her neck.

            “You shouldn’t be here.” Even as she said it she knew she wouldn’t ask him to leave.

            “Why not?”

            “Because I might hurt you, too.”

            “You can’t hurt me, red. Nobody can hurt me more than I already hurt myself.”

            “I hurt my mom. She cried yesterday when we were at the hospital.”

            “She loves you.”

            “I know. Maybe it would hurt less if she loved me less.”

            He sighed and slid his arm around her shoulders. When she spoke next his blue pajama top was wet with her tears.

            “I’m tired.”

            “I can’t believe you’re awake,” he said with another smile. “I’ve seen your chart. They’ve got you doped up enough to knock out a cow.”

            Erza grimaced. “I didn’t take my sleep meds.”

            Jellal said nothing. He released her and pulled out the drawer in the table beside her bed. The pills were rough and the coating half-dissolved from the time it spent lodged under her tongue. He held them out toward her in his palm.

            “You should get a better hiding place if you’re gonna skip a dose. They always look in the drawers and under your pillows first.”

            “What if I freak out again?”

            “Then I’ll call a nurse. You need sleep.”

            Erza closed her eyes and swallowed them dry. They were bitter and she immediately felt the panic rise in her stomach. Maybe if she vomited them up now –

            “Come on,” he whispered. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

            “And then you’ll go?”

            “Yep. I promise I’ll go. You won’t hurt me.”

            She stretched out on her side and pulled the sheets up to her chin. Jellal settled back against the wall at the foot of her bed and grinned.

            “If’ I’d known I’d be staying, I’d have brought my sketch pad.”

            “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay. I know you went light at dinner. Those pills should hit you hard and fast.”

            “How do you know?”

            “Because I’ve taken those before. You’ll feel sluggish in the morning but the sleep is worth it.”

            “Tell me about your mom.” Erza watched him divert his gaze to the window. The moon was still hidden by the rainclouds but in the pale light she could see the pronounced lines of his neck and jaw. “If you want to. Sorry, I didn’t think –”

            “I don’t look much like her,” he said in a rough whisper. “I used to think maybe that’s what made her sad.” Jellal folded his arms behind his head and sighed. “It wasn’t true, though. My dad used to say she was _magic.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Erza could tell something was off about Jellal. He smiled more, laughed louder, and moved too quickly. During a morning group therapy session he tapped his fingers on his knees, and on the armrest of his chair. The psychologist running the group shot him a glare and he righted the backward leaning chair but his body didn’t stop moving until he was leaning forward on his knees. Erza watched his thumbs circle jerkily over one another until the session ended.

“I need a smoke,” he muttered, standing immediately. With hardly a glance back at her, he held out a hand and Erza reluctantly took it. The psychologist was already on her way across the common room but one of the other patients eyed Jellal grasping her hand with more interest than Erza felt comfortable with. Her green eyes followed them all the way out the door.

The air outside was muggy; the product of too much rain and too little sun. Jellal sucked down half his cigarette at a pace Erza said nothing about. In a show of insecurity she leaned into his side and he draped his arm across her shoulders.

“You’re agitated today,” she whispered.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I thought you were going to bail on group earlier, you were so jumpy.”

“I feel great.”

Erza glanced up at him and then over at the spent cigarette still in his hand. She reached over and snubbed it out on the concrete tabletop. His fingers were blacker than usual. The pads of Erza’s thumb brushed over his fingertips.

“Are you sleeping?”

Jellal shrugged and patted his pockets. “I’m out of cigarettes.”

“How do you normally get them? Does your dad bring them for you?”

“Nah, he hates cigarettes. My friend usually hooks me up but she’s been busy this week.”

“I’ve never seen anyone come by for you that wasn’t your dad.”

“She’s… busy. I only ever see her on Sunday mornings right when they open the desk.”

“She must be a good friend if she does that for you.” Jellal was silent for so long, Erza glanced up at him with concern.

“I don’t know how _good_ she is,” he whispered. “But sometimes we get what we get.”

Erza stared at his hand and pressed her thumb against the pad of his index finger. The charcoal was so packed that only a light dust on her thumb was left behind.

* * *

 

They didn’t have a set schedule or rotation. Sometimes he came to her room and sometimes she went to his. On Sunday night, Erza sought him out. She found his walls and window completely plastered with charcoal drawings. Some of them were of a woman she now knew to be his mother. Others were of vague shadows and streaks of what looked like rain through a window. A small cluster of torn pages near his bed were nothing but hands with light shading. Erza leaned closer to the overlapping pages and saw they were _his_ hands. The likeness was incredible right down to the smudges of charcoal on his fingers.

“I hoped you’d come,” Jellal whispered in her ear. His hands slid around her waist and left black charcoal streaks on the hem of her pale blue pajama top. She spun around and before she could get a word out, his lips were on hers. He kissed her with a force Erza was unused to. His heart beat steadily against the palms of her hands and even though she _knew_ he wasn’t quite right, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jellal left charcoal fingerprints on her stomach and thighs, and a red mark on her neck. He went so far as to get one of her legs free from her pajama pants before Erza pulled him to the desk in the corner. She hopped to the surface and wound her legs around his waist. With an abandon they’d never shared before, Jellal fucked her on the desk and it was the _most_ Erza thought she’d felt in days – _weeks._ Despite the concerned voice at the back of her consciousness, Erza let him drag her with him over a steep ledge. His breaths were heavy and this time when he kissed her it was slower but ended just as quickly as it began.

“What time is it?” He whispered, helping her off the desk and back into her pants.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Remember my friend I told you about?” Jellal retied the drawstring of his pajama pants and pulled open the small wardrobe.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. The one who brings you cigarettes?”

“That’s the one.” He bent down and stuffed his feet into a pair of boots. “She’s picking me up in a bit. You really don’t know what time it is?”

“I think I saw the wall clock say eleven on my way here but, Jellal –” Erza grabbed his arm and spun him around. His eyes were bright and she didn’t care for the smile on his face. “Are you really leaving?”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, and took her hand in his tightly.

“Aren’t you tired?” Erza whispered. “Don’t you take a sedative at night?”

“I’m tired of sedatives, Erza.” Jellal tugged her to the small table by his bed and yanked open the drawer with such careless force it rattled against the wall. Inside was an assortment of loose pills. “See?”

“Jellal,” Erza breathed, trying to choose her words carefully. “How long have you been doing this?”

“A few days.” He glanced up at the small space of visible window and his grip on her hand tightened. “We need to go.”

Erza let him pull her into the hallway and said nothing as they navigated the maze of corridors and stairwells. _A few days,_ he’d said. Could he really go from what felt like a level plateau to… _this_ in only a space of a few days? And hadn’t he been the one to tell her not to store skipped medication doses in bedside drawers? His sloppiness alarmed her more than anything else. She watched the shadows play on his face as they quickly passed through a hallway Erza knew would dead end into a receiving port for laundry trucks. She realized that though he was in boots, he lacked any sort of jacket and she was completely without shoes. Her feet padded on the tiled floor while his boots clomped loudly.

“Jellal,” she whispered thinly. He didn’t respond and only stopped once they’d reached the doors. Thunder rumbled outside and Erza’s panic grew as she watched him peek through the rectangular windows. “Jellal, _please,”_ she breathed again.

Jellal pulled the door open only a crack before the wind blew it so hard the closer arm bent backwards and the heavy metal body crashed into the wall. A young woman leaned against a pillar at the very edge of the overhang. She flicked a still glowing cigarette butt out into the rain. Her midnight hair gleamed in the halogen flood light.

“I thought you’d take all night,” she said in a bored tone. Erza wanted to shrink back down the hallway but Jellal held fast to her hand. “She coming with?”

Jellal finally turned to Erza in surprise, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. His entire face was _different._ She suddenly regretted leaving her room at all.

“What do you say, red?”

“I can’t.” Erza twisted her hand in his grasp and he let her go. She clutched her hand to her chest and watched him turn away from her to join his dark-haired companion. They disappeared around the corner and Erza felt hot tears on her face mixing with the cold spray of the storm. Her socks were now wet and her toes, freezing. Erza backed down the hall and felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. To her left she spotted a red emergency lever. Without thinking, she reached over and yanked on it. The flashing lights and alarms filled every bit of her consciousness. Erza pressed herself against the wall and slid down to the floor.

The broken door was still banging against the wall and rainwater had soaked the mouth of the hallway when a trio of security guards found her on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

* * *

 

“Why didn’t you go with him?” Doctor Dreyar asked in the tone he always took with her. Dry. Drab. Detached.

“Because I was afraid.” Erza glanced up at him and, as expected, his expression was utterly neutral. “He was different. I didn’t like it.”

“A manic mood or state can be alarming to see for the first time.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Erza chewed on her lip. “I mean, I know you cant tell me about his condition but I’m worried. Do you think he’ll come back?”

“Mister Fernandes has a pattern of behavior that can be predicted by the people closest to him. I’d like to switch focus for a moment, Miss Scarlet.”

Erza swallowed back frustrated tears. In very few words Doctor Dreyar had, however appropriately, shut her out of Jellal’s situation. It hurt more than she wanted to think about. Doctor Dreyar cleared his throat.

“Have you tried to recall anything else of that last afternoon before the dream that brought you to us?”

“I’ve tried but nothing is coming to me.” The lie was obvious and Erza didn’t even try to be smooth about it. Recalling anything about that day, and the wobbly stilts her memories stood on, caused her head to pound and her heart to race. Just beyond that was the impulse to tear at her arms and release the poison her brain kept screaming was there.

“Miss Scarlet, I understand this process is difficult. Would you like to try and walk through the day again? Perhaps if I guided you it won’t be so intimidating.”

“Right, okay.” Erza heaved a deep breath and stared at his table again. “I had a sandwich and there was a bicycle and the guy and the lady –”

“Let’s slow down. Tell me about this man.”

“He had purple-ish hair, I think. Or maybe it was red.”

“A similar shade to your hair?”

“No, it was pinker than that. He had a scar over his eye. I think...” Erza’s eyes traced the swirl of grain around a knot in the wood. “He couldn’t open that eye. It was closed. He was yelling at me but I couldn’t hear it.” She clutched at her knees and dug her fingers into the soft place below her kneecap. “Then, uh, there was the lady with the mask over her mouth.”

“Her mouth?” Doctor Dreyar didn’t frown or break expression at all, but Erza heard it in his voice. “You said before she wore a mask resembling what one would wear to a masquerade party. Those are typically applied over the eyes.”

“No, it was her mouth. I remember. It was black. She yelled at the guy with the hair and the scar.” Erza tried to focus on the memory and their words but all she could hear was the clacking of yellow and pink beads sliding up and down the bicycle wheel spokes. She squeezed her eyes shut and poked her fingers into her knees so hard it hurt. Something white and something like tracks on the ceiling flashed in her mind. “There was a room.”

“A room?”

“Yeah, like a room with curtains hanging from the ceiling. White ones.” Erza’s eyes flew open. _“Oh,”_ she gasped. “It was a clinic or a hospital or something. There was a light in my eyes and my head hurt.”

“Is the woman with the mask over her mouth the same as the woman in your dream who inflicts the pain and sex-like pleasure? You mentioned before she had claws.”

“Uh,” Erza absently itched at her arm and felt her face heat. “Yeah. She touches me on my arm and it hurts and then it… doesn’t.”

Doctor Dreyar pursed his lips and Erza felt her chest tighten. He so very rarely reacted to anything she said.

“Miss Scarlet, you’re itching your arm again. Did this woman at the clinic or hospital administer any medications?”

“I don’t know,” Erza whispered.

“How did you get from this facility to your mother’s home?”

“I don’t know that either.” This time Erza couldn’t hold back her tears. They fell in fat drops from her chin to her arm. She glanced down and saw she’d crinkled the tape on the bandages and the skin between the gauze and her wrist was bright red.

Doctor Dreyar’s phone began to vibrate beside him and he sighed. For the first time in nearly two and a half months he leaned forward with a pained expression.

“Where are your glasses today?” she blurted.

“Miss Scarlet, I don’t wear glasses.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“I thought for sure...” Erza trailed off and realized she was itching at her wrist again.

“We made some very good progress today, but I don’t know that it’s good for you to intentionally try and guide yourself through that day anymore. I should not have suggested that before given your tendency to harm yourself whenever memories surface.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is not a thing you should apologize for. We’ll meet again in two days. I’m not going to be in tomorrow and I think it’s important we keep these sessions as consistent as possible.”

“Okay.”

“I do have a request, though.” Doctor Dreyar stood and circled the room to his desk. He dug out a notepad and a soft tipped marker. “If you _do_ remember things you dream about or things that come to you, please write them down. Even if the things you remember don’t seem real or important. I’d also like to discuss this alter ego of yours that you mentioned early on.”

Erza took the notepad and marker from him and nodded. She turned to leave when he reached for his phone and started to flip through his calendar.

“I’ll see you in two days then. I’ve got a spot after lunch.”

“Thank you,” she muttered. Erza kept her head down as she made her way back to her room. Usually after seeing Doctor Dreyar she liked to spend time outside but without Jellal the ritual felt empty. She passed by a cluster of arm chairs and the girl with the green eyes smiled. Her hair was long, blonde, and messy. She wore no shoes and kicked her feet back and forth, the pads of her toes barely brushing the floor.

* * *

 

Jellal returned nearly one week after he’d walked out the back hallway door. He was escorted directly to his room and had a cuff around his ankle. Erza only saw him for meals and even then he was in and out of the cafeteria before she could even think of catching him.

On the third day, he didn’t show up for lunch and Erza was too curious to let it go. Midway between the end of the hall and Jellal’s room was a nurses’ station. The young woman on duty eyed Erza’s approach but said nothing even as she slipped into his room.

The walls were completely bare and took her by surprise. All of his artwork had been stacked on the desk and his cases of pencils and charcoals were, for once, confined neatly. Jellal himself was stretched across his bed. He turned his head toward her but didn’t smile.

“Nice ankle bracelet,” Erza offered awkwardly.

“I asked for it,” he whispered. Jellal’s eyes never left hers. “I owe you an apology. I never should’ve dragged you down there. I’m sorry if I scared you or if I did anything...” he trailed off and sighed.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want, Jellal,” she murmured. “I knew you weren’t quite right and I _enjoyed_ it. I should be apologizing to you.”

“That’s fucked up, Erza.” His eyes moved to the ceiling. “This whole thing is fucked up. Now I have to start the new med combos over and everything is just a fucking waste. _I_ am a waste.”

“I don’t think you’re a waste.”

“Well, you’re the only one,” he snapped. Erza tried not to react. He hadn’t been himself the night he took off, and he wasn’t himself _now._ She sat on the edge of his bed and touched the ankle monitor. “I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m tired of trying to fly, and I’m tired of trying _not_ to. I hate the race to the ledge, Erza. I come closer and closer to taking a swan dive right over it every time.” Jellal flung his arm out across the space next to him and squeezed his hand into a fist. Erza sighed and stretched out beside him. “I’m wearing myself out trying not to be my mom.” He turned his head to face her. “I’m afraid I’m going to run out of energy.”

Erza touched his cheek and brushed her fingers over his lips to quiet him. She had nothing to offer him in the way of comfort. No promises of brighter horizons. Nothing. So she kissed him softly and let him curl her hair around his stained fingers.

* * *

 

Eileen made sure Erza had all of her favorite shampoos and conditioners and lotions. Erza’s room would be stuffed full of creature comforts if the hospital allowed them. As it was, the shampoos had to be brought in unlabeled bottles and pass an inspection before they ever reached Erza’s hands. She appreciated her mother’s efforts and the simple act of washing her hair with her own shampoo brought a small amount of joy. Which was important because Erza did _not_ like showering in a stall.

The facilities were starkly clean and often smelled of bleach and lemon disinfectant. Not a speck of mold could be found at the end of every day. Erza preferred to shower first thing in the morning so, at the very least, she could enjoy the solitude and the knowledge that no one had used the stall before her.

The skies had opened up again the night before and the row of windows that lined the upper portion of the wall showed nothing but mottled clouds. Erza reached for her towel and knocked over an open bottle of shampoo. Ignoring the flub, she blotted her hair dry and decided she’d try to remember how to french braid that afternoon. Maybe the resulting curls would be a nice change.

Erza stepped out of her shower stall and immediately recognized her mistake. The heel of her foot slipped on the small pool of shampoo and her body rushed at the floor. She felt her head crack on the lip of the stall and her vision was splotched with red and black.

“Looks like you’re going back to the hospital,” a small voice said from somewhere she couldn’t see. Erza blinked rapidly and tried to gasp for breath but her head _throbbed_ with every beat of her heart. A pair of wide green eyes peered over her and a halo of messy blonde hair brushed over Erza’s naked shoulders. “Maybe you’ll even remember it this time.”

Erza opened her mouth but hadn’t the breath to speak or scream. Her eyes closed and all she could see was green.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are only going to get weirder from here on out. I'd advise revisiting the warnings on this story and making a decision if it's really for you or not.

The crimson wisps were the first thing she saw. Erza blinked through the haze and tried to reach toward the red but another hand caught hers before she could get there. Her lungs filled shallowly. Even the slightest hitch made her head throb _._ The lights were too bright and the crimson too vibrant.

“I’m sorry, love,” her mother’s voice whispered. The lights dimmed and Erza sighed. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” She shifted on the bed and finally opened her eyes all the way. Her mother’s face was haggard. “What happened?”

“You fell, sweetheart. In the shower, I think.” Eileen swiped at a tear but Erza could tell it was but one of many. “I’m so worried about you, Erza. They did a CT scan and said you have a… uh –” She paused and cleared her throat. Eileen’s fingers brushed Erza’s hair off her forehead. “A traumatic brain injury. I’m sorry, it’s hard to say and even harder to accept. I can’t _believe_ this has gone on for so long.”

“A what?” Erza felt her mother’s words swimming in her head and her own words sticking to her tongue. Everything felt upside down and fuzzy.

“You hit your head very hard, Erza. You were bleeding and they had to shave some of your hair off to stitch you up. I’m so sorry I let this happen.”

“What happened?” She asked again. Eileen’s eyes watered and her smile hurt.

“I’ll handle it, okay? You just hit your head. We’ll get through this.”

“But –”

The room door suddenly swung open and Doctor Dreyar appeared at her bedside with a stern-looking woman. She wore spectacles and glared harshly at her clipboard.

“She’s repeating her questions,” Eileen said softly.

“That could be a symptom of the concussion,” Doctor Dreyar said, folding his hands on the bedrail.

“I’d say it’s both that _and_ a lingering symptom of TBI,” the older woman snapped. “According to your notes, Doctor Dreyar, she’s been confused in your sessions. Her statements contradict one another and sometimes there are multiple occurrences within the same session.”

“Well, yes –”

“She should’ve had the scan weeks ago,” the woman interrupted.

“When she came through the ER there wasn’t any –”

“I’ve seen the records.” She adjusted her spectacles and Erza watched the woman switch her gaze to Eileen. “To be quite frank with you, Ms. Belserion, I’m very concerned. Your daughter has all the signs of both this new concussion and TBI. This changes her prognosis considerably.”

“What can be done?”

“She’s suffering from delusions, invasive dreams, and what appears to be a lingering state of post-traumatic amnesia. Miss Scarlet hasn’t been able to recall the details of what triggered the incident with the knife in your kitchen. According to Doctor Dreyar her account is patchy at best.”

“Was she assaulted?” Eileen asked in a voice Erza almost couldn’t catch.

“There’s –” Doctor Dreyar began slowly.

The older woman heaved a sigh and cut him off. Doctor Dreyar’s mouth twisted. “We don’t know. It’s far too late for a kit. I think it’s best if she continues her treatment with the psychiatrist. There could be underlying trauma or her missing memories could be due to the TBI.”

Erza watched her mother’s face change into something heartbreaking. She wished her words weren’t such a mush of her thoughts.

“My mother used to have what my grandmother called _episodes,”_ Eileen whispered to the doctors but not taking her eyes off Erza. “We didn’t talk about it and I grew up with my grandparents. I very rarely saw her.”

“Episodes?” Doctor Dreyar asked. “Could you describe them? It might be relevant.”

Eileen smiled sadly. “Things back then weren’t like they are now, and even worse when my mother was a child. She fabricated memories and would sometimes forget about me entirely. My grandparents tried to cover it up after child protective services stepped in but I knew something wasn’t right. Her paranoia became so extreme they threatened to put her in an institution.”

Erza tried to focus on the words falling from her mother’s mouth. She’d never heard this story before. Only that –

“She set fire to one of the outbuildings on the property,” Eileen murmured. “All her belongings were lost but they never found _her.”_

“When you say fabricated memories –”

“She believed we wanted her dead,” Eileen said plainly, finally looking away from Erza and up to Doctor Dreyar. “By the time I was twelve she was refusing all medication and medical attention. Life for me was easier once she was gone.” Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Are you going to bill me for this session, Doctor?”

The older woman with the spectacles snorted in amusement before redirecting the conversation. “Could’ve been paranoid schizophrenia. Have you ever seen anything like that in your daughter’s behaviors? Delusions or weaknesses in memories?”

“No, never,” Eileen said firmly, squeezing Erza’s hand. “I’d have had her seen immediately.”

“Hm.” The woman scanned her papers once more before tucking the clipboard under her arm. “Well, it’s certainly not off the table. In my professional opinion I think the hospital is the best place for her until we can pinpoint what’s happening. The absent minded self-harm is very concerning, as well.”

Erza watched her mother nod and smile down at her. It was a sad smile.

* * *

 

The pills were like a little rainbow in a cup. Erza’s head hurt and she furrowed her eyebrows. The headaches were new and frustrating. Erza swallowed the pills with two gulps of water and handed the cup back to her nurse.

“Thank you,” she muttered. Erza reached back to touch the tape that kept the bandage at the base of her skull in place. Everything was falling apart, even her head. One day soon her skull would break open and her brain would flop out and leave a wet spot on the floor. Erza’s eyes fell to the ground. The new angle made her head hurt worse.

“Don’t think too hard, red,” a voice said from beside her. “It won’t help.”

“Sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for?”

Erza felt like crying. She turned to her blue boy that seemed most like himself, not at all grey, and focused first on the tattoo that stretched over his cheek and then studied the one circling his wrist.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She tried to fizzle away but his arm was heavy across her shoulders and it felt _real._ The _realest_ thing since her mother’s hands. “They said I hurt my brain and everything’s all fucked up now.”

“We’re all fucked in the head, red. It’s why we’re here. You just gotta keep shuffling through the day.”

“Everybody wants me to remember stuff and I just _can’t_.” Erza gazed up at him and he smiled. This smile wasn’t sad like her mother’s had been. “I don’t want to remember it anymore. I don’t care.”

“You’ll get there. I know it’s hard when you’ve got shit taped to your head and everything sucks.” Jellal leaned back against his chair and she felt his fingers touch the edge of the bandage on her head. The pads of his fingers were soft and slid through her ponytail. “Are you gonna be in group tomorrow morning?”

“Group?” Erza’s mind wandered into something blonde and green.

“Yeah, you know that thing where we sit in a circle and talk about our feelings?” He laughed softly. “Did I lose you, red?”

“No, sorry. I was just thinking about that girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one with the long blonde hair and green eyes. She was in group the day you took off, remember?”

Jellal sucked in a deep breath and sighed heavily. He didn’t respond for a long moment. “You mean Mavis? She’s not a girl.”

“Is she a boy then?” Erza grinned at him over her shoulder.

“No, I only meant she’s older than us. Just small and weird.”

“She was in the bathroom with me when I fell.”

“Really?”

“What’s up with her? She was staring at us once before, too.”

“She’s –” Jellal ran a hand through his own hair. “She’s an anomaly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know everything about it but what I _do_ know is crazy.”

“This is a place for crazy people isn’t it?”

He laughed and curled her ponytail around his fingers. “Yeah, I guess it is. Mavis used to be married to some dude who’s in a high security place for unstable criminals.” Erza’s eyebrows flew up. “You can find it all online if you want but he’s a real piece of work. He killed some people but you can’t execute the mentally ill so they locked him up. In all the headlines and think pieces they called Mavis a _folie_ _à_ _deux._ She took on her husband’s delusions and it festered for years.”

“Why’s she here and not incarcerated?”

Jellal shrugged. “Because she didn’t actually kill anyone, I guess. They couldn’t link her to any of the shit her husband did. A lot of people considered her one of his victims. She’s been here forever and still stuck in his delusions.”

“Wow.”

“I’d stay away from her if I were you. Shared psychotic disorder’s a real messy thing. I first came here when I was fifteen and she started mimicking this other girl. They took Mavis up to the third floor and she stayed there for months. It was wild.”

“You’ve been here since you were fifteen?”

“I don’t live here, red,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’ve been in and out, though. I’d rather be here and _safe_ than...” Jellal trailed off and smiled. “How’s the headache? Better?”

“Yeah, a little.” She wasn’t lying. The throb had eased off and she felt… looser.

“So about a half hour, then.”

“A half hour for what?”

“From the time you’re in pain ‘til the time you’re not.”

“Were you keeping track?”

“Maybe.” His smile made Erza feel like the day hadn’t been a total loss even though most of it had been spent in a chair by the window. “Wanna come outside with me? It’s stopped raining and I want a smoke before we eat.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t wince when she clutched his hand too tight. Earlier she thought she might splatter onto the floor but now she wondered if she’d float away.

* * *

 

“Miss Scarlet, let’s run through your day again.”

“Today, you mean?” Erza asked hopefully.

“No, the day you had the first dream.”

“I don’t remember anything new,” she whispered. “Do we have to talk about it again?”

“I think it’s important for your recovery if we understand the circumstances leading up to your arrival at your mother’s house. A traumatic brain injury is no small thing, Miss Scarlet.”

“I guess not.” Erza stared down at her clipped fingernails. She used to paint them every week but hadn’t thought to do that in months. Perhaps they were too short now.

“Tell me more about the clinic you remembered before. You mentioned the woman’s mask was over her mouth and not her face. I’d like to expand on that. Was she a nurse?”

“I don’t know. I just remember a lot of talking.”

“She was in the room with you, though? The one with the curtains hanging from the ceiling?”

“Yes.”

“Did she touch you? You’ve mentioned before that in your dreams she touches you and brings both pleasure and pain.”

“Uh, yeah, in my dreams she does that. But she’s not always there. Sometimes it’s just the guy and his snake.”

“Let’s move forward a bit. Maybe from a different angle. How did you get to your mother’s home? I’ve done a little bit of checking and the university campus is roughly twenty miles away. It’s physically impossible for you to have walked.”

Erza stared at Doctor Dreyar and blinked. She focused on the bridge of his nose. Something felt wrong about his face.

“Are you sure you don’t wear glasses?”

“I’ve never worn glasses.” Doctor Dreyar leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on the arm. “This fixation is interesting. Where did the idea of glasses come from?”

“I don’t know.” Erza sighed and touched the tape of her bandage again. “You just look really familiar to me. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t about you. I just thought for sure...” She trailed off.

“How did you pay for your sandwich?” Doctor Dreyar asked.

“I had cash in my pocket,” Erza said absently, still trying to understand why Doctor Dreyar’s face was too thin and why he didn’t wear glasses when she was almost _positive_ he’d worn them at some point.

“Not a wallet or bag?”

“No I left that stuff in my dorm. I just wanted something quick to eat before I met up with Kagura.”

“Do you often wander the campus without your identification?”

“Sometimes maybe.”

“Did you have change from your sandwich purchase?”

“Yeah, I broke a twenty. I went to the ATM that morning.” Erza felt a kaleidoscope of butterflies take flight in her head. They were all in sync with one another and had identical wings. She couldn’t _see_ them but she _knew._

“Is it possible you paid for a cab ride or something of the like?”

“A cab?”

“Your mother’s home is too far for you to have walked.”

“Maybe somebody drove me?”

“Did they?”

Erza scowled. A faint throbbing at the base of her skull derailed everything. She kept circling back around to Doctor Dreyar and his pair of non-existent glasses.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured around a lump in her throat. “I can’t think straight. I don’t remember anything.”

* * *

 

The hallway was dark and Erza’s bare feet made very little noise. Her hair tugged at her scalp in a half unwound bun but she needed to talk to somebody. Even if Jellal was asleep she could still lay in his bed and wait for him to wake. _Anything_ was better than than her empty room. Fighting sleep was almost as exhausting as the dreams themselves. She didn’t want to be alone when her rainbow of pills took effect. Not after such a long, confusing day.

Erza was so fixated on the end of the hallway and her destination just around the corner that she didn’t notice Mavis fall into stride beside her. The woman was smaller than Erza previously thought. Her hair hung long and unkempt.

“Going to see your lover?” she asked in a child-like voice. Erza pursed her lips and tried to inch away from Mavis. “His meds are strong and he’ll probably sleep through whatever you do to him.”

“Excuse me?” Erza demanded, suddenly stopping in her tracks.

“I’m just saying. If you wanted to fuck him as he slept, you could. We’ve all done it.”

_“_ _W_ _hat?”_ Erza’s thoughts spun out of control.

Mavis shrugged and tugged on a hank of her hair. “My husband never woke up because I always gave him the good stuff. I bet they give Jellal good stuff too. He’s pretty.”

“I have to go,” Erza whispered. She turned back toward her own room but stopped before taking a single step. She’d just left there hadn’t she?

“Did you forget?” Mavis asked with a light laugh. “I won’t tell anyone if you do it. We can have a little secret between us.”

“I don’t like secrets,” Erza breathed, unclear as to why she was allowing this woman to bully her. “I’m going.”

Mavis continued to laugh, louder this time, as Erza ran down the remainder of the hallway. Her eyes closed in a slow blink, the night meds finally catching up to her. Once around the corner, Erza collided with something solid and a pair of hands grasped her arms.

“Let me go!” she sputtered on the edge of panic, unable to open her eyes.

“Erza, stop,” a male voice said in a hushed tone. _“Stop!”_

“Just let me go,” Erza begged pitifully. She could feel hot tears on her cheeks and hated them. Why had she ever left her room?

_“Erza!”_ The grip on her arms loosened and she felt him step away. Her head hurt again. “What’s wrong with you?”

Erza’s eyes finally opened and she stared up at Jellal groggily. He was very much awake, and _very_ worried.

“I found you,” she said with a grin that felt like it might slide off her face.

“I think I’m the one who found _you_ , red.” He laughed softly and took her hand. “Let’s get you back where you belong.”

“Okay.” Erza followed Jellal to the fork in the hallway, where he stopped suddenly. Voices could be heard around the corner. She thought she heard Mavis arguing with others but wasn’t sure. Her thoughts sloshed.

“I think we should just go back to my room,” Jellal whispered. “Come on.” He pulled her away from the corner and took up a quick pace. Erza felt lighter than she’d felt in days. Her thoughts were butterflies once again.

“You look like you took your meds,” Jellal said once they were safely in his room. He stepped behind her to reaffix her bun and ran his fingers over the edges of the bandage tape gently. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Erza yawned. “Tired, though. That’s why I came.”

“You came because you’re tired?”

“I came to sleep not alone.” The logic center of her brain knew her words weren’t quite in the right order but she didn’t fix them. Instead she stretched out in Jellal’s bed and hid her face in his pillow.

“That spot on your head’s pretty wicked, red. Are you okay to sleep in here? Will they come to check it in the morning?”

“Mm,” Erza muttered.

“Alright.” Jellal crawled over her and arranged his blankets. They were the same dark blankets as the ones on her bed but these smelled like him and promised sleep. “I’m worried about you, Erza,” he whispered.

She might’ve laughed at the use of her real name instead of _red_ but couldn’t quite get it out.

* * *

 

_A coil of electric purple wrapped around her wrists and held her still. The woman’s claws were thick and black and unlike anything she’d ever seen before. High peals of laughter echoed off the walls and curtains –_ _even_ _the rings they hung from. Every surface vibrated. The concrete beneath her_ _was loose like gravel. Pointed edges dug into her elbows._

_“Does that feel okay?” the woman with the claws asked. Her lips curled into something sinister and her eyes behind the mask glittered. “Does it hurt?_ _Do you like it? Do you want more?_ _”_

_Erza could not answer her nor could she look away. The woman’s face twisted into a man’s. His scar seeped a blood so dark and yet so bright it hurt her eyes._

_“_ _Something’s wrong,” he growled._

_Erza tore her gaze from the face –_ _faces? –_ _of her tormenters. She was in the sandwich shop again. Doctor Dreyar was behind the counter shouting, “No onions!”_

_His large arms filled the sleeves of his white t-shirt and his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. He adjusted the_ _glasses_ _as if he were unused to having them on his face._

_A wave of horrible pleasure surged through her body and Erza thought she might vomit. She trembled and everything felt cold. The serpent’s poison had reached her heart._ _A hand reached behind her head and came away dry._

_“She’s fine,” the man with the scar said. “You’re fine._ _Just relax. Just relax and enjoy it._ _” With every word that fell from his lips another face in the sandwich shop twisted into either the woman or the man with the scar._

_Erza’s head rolled to the side and she watched a bicycle wheel spin slowly. Pink and yellow beads slid over the spokes of the wheel. She heard each clack in her mind as a separate_ _echoing_ _entity._ _Pink then yellow then pink again. Clack… clack…_

Erza bolted up in bed so fast her head spun painfully. Panic rose in her chest like bile. This wasn’t her room! The walls were… _oh._ Jellal’s room. She’d come here on her own.

“Hey,” Jellal said in a rough voice. His hand touched her back lightly at first but after a moment his palm pressed against her. “Hey, red.”

“I remember,” Erza gasped. Her breaths were coming so fast that they were useless. She couldn’t breathe. “I remember now.”

“You remember what?”

“Everything. The man. The woman. They… they attacked me. They _stalked_ me and then _attacked_ me. They were in the sandwich shop.”

Jellal sat upright beside her and touched her shoulder gently. “Erza I think this is something you should talk about with your shrink. I don’t think –”

“He raped me,” she blurted, turning to face him. “They both did.”

“I’m calling a nurse, okay?” Jellal crawled from the bed and disappeared into the hallway.

Erza stayed in the bed, staring at his charcoal drawings taped to the opposite wall even as she heard the approaching voices outside. Jellal’s hands were depicted in excruciating detail. One page in the middle of the chaos showed two sets of hands – one smaller, one larger. She wondered if he’d drawn his own hands and his mother’s. Erza closed her eyes and fell back against his pillows. They were harder than hers and hurt the still healing stitches.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’d like to talk about the alter ego you brought up in one of our early sessions,” Doctor Dreyar said, leaning his chin into his hand pensively.

“Why that?”

“I think it’s relevant.”

Erza frowned. “You’ve been prompting me for weeks to remember what happened to me. Now that I’ve remembered, you want to talk about some _other_ thing?”

“Have you remembered what happened?”

“Yes!” Erza blurted. “I was raped! By a man _and_ a woman!”

“And how did that recollection come to you?”

“In a dream!”

“Why are you interpreting your dream as a memory?”

Erza huffed frustratedly and raked a hand through her hair. The strands felt greasy against her fingers. She didn’t like washing her hair with the bandage still on the back of her head even though it was perfectly safe if she was careful.

“Miss Scarlet, I don’t intend for you to feel as though I don’t believe you.”

_“Do_ you believe me?” she snapped.

“My job is to help you work through the subterfuge of a brain injury to find the root of your post-traumatic amnesia. I won’t plant ideas in your head. If you believe you were sexually assaulted or raped, we’ll get there. Charging into those memories has been nothing but harmful for you so far. When you woke in Mister Fernandes’s room you were in the midst of a panic attack and incredibly agitated.”

Erza sighed dejectedly and her eyes slid to the window. It was raining again. Everything was a deep blue lined with grey.

“I don’t want you to relapse into self-harm.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Miss Scarlet. My concern at this point is moving forward but in a healthy way.” He cleared his throat and she could feel his eyes on her. “Let’s talk about this _other_ Erza.”

“She’s strong. She’s...” Erza trailed off and tore her eyes away from the storm outside. “She’s got a lot of swords.”

“Is she violent?”

“Sometimes, I guess.”

“When was the first time you thought of her?”

“She was in my dream that night at my mom’s. She had special clothes and said the snake venom would kill her if someone didn’t amputate her arm.”

“So this dream version of you –”

“She’s not me.”

“She looks like you, though?”

“Yes.”

“And her name is Erza Scarlet?”

“Yeah but she’s not _me_ me. She’s another me. From somewhere else.”

“I see. So this other Erza was bit by the same serpent that terrorized you into harming yourself with the knife?”

“Yes. She was stupid, though.”

“How so?”

“She wanted her whole arm cut off.” Erza ran her hand up and down her own arm which was, for the first time in months, free of bandages or bandaids. “But she didn’t need to.”

“Sounds dramatic.” Doctor Dreyar graced her with a rare smile and she _laughed._

“She is dramatic, I think.” Erza’s eyes flit back to the window. “I thought she was wrong about her arm. I thought if I could just _bleed –”_

“So you made the decision to cut your arm open then? It was a conscious choice?”

“Yeah, I think so. I wanted to do it because I didn’t want to die.”

“When was the last time you saw this other you –”

“She’s not me,” Erza whispered again.

“I apologize, Miss Scarlet. When was the last time you saw her in your dreams?”

“Not since the woman with the claws and mask appeared. I –” Erza’s heart rate spiked painfully. “I think she’s afraid of her.”

“Why?”

“Because the woman tried to rape and kill her, too.” A tear slid down her cheek but she barely felt it. “Does that sound crazy? I think it sounds crazy.”

“You experienced a severe head injury and suffered trauma. It’s not at all uncommon for someone in your position to construct a wall between themselves and the trauma.”

Erza watched the raindrops pelt the window. Doctor Dreyar’s tone was placating but she knew he was choosing his words carefully.

* * *

 

Jellal’s shoes were untied. These weren’t his boots, but sneakers. He sat crosslegged on the surface of the outdoor picnic table. Erza twisted his shoelaces between her fingers and watched the bones of his wrist move beneath his inked skin. His thumb tapped the butt of his cigarette. He seemed _elsewhere._

“I don’t think Doctor Dreyar believes me,” Erza finally murmured. She left his shoelaces alone and tucked her folded hands between her thighs.

“Why not?”

“Because he won’t let me talk about it.”

“What would you say to him if he told you to talk about it?”

“I’d tell him what happened,” Erza said irritably.

“What happened?” Jellal’s eyes were still fixated on the horizon. He looked like he could see the city beyond the row of tall pines but she knew he couldn’t.

“That man and his snake, and the woman with the mask attacked me and raped me.”

“Where?”

“In the sandwich shop.”

“With all those people?”

“Well no –” Erza huffed. She pressed her body against the edge of the tabletop and stared down at the pockmarked concrete. _Had_ they been in the sandwich shop? Or was it the clinic?

“The window for a rape kit is seventy-two hours,” Jellal muttered. A roll of thunder in the distance drowned out the sound of his sigh.

“How do you know that?”

“Because my dad’s a cop.”

Erza blinked. She hadn’t known that. It felt like a thing she should know about him by now.

“Do you think you might be pregnant?”

“Even _I_ know pregnancy by rape isn’t common. And anyway I’ve had an implant in my arm for years.”

“It’s a hard thing to prove, red. Your situation makes it harder. Dreyar won’t push you because –”

“He said he won’t put ideas in my head.”

Jellal finally tore his eyes away from the pines and smiled down at her. “Yep.” He flicked away his used cigarette and it flew into a barrel Erza hadn’t ever noticed before. Maybe instead of Jellal adapting to the hospital’s rules, they were adapting to him. “How’s the head?”

“It’s fine. They took my stitches out yesterday. It just itches now.”

“You’re always itchy.” He laughed and slid off the table and down to the bench. “I like that about you, though.”

“You like that I’m itchy?”

“I like that you’re aware of your body mending itself. We can’t have you in pieces, red.”

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“I don’t want you in pieces either.” She turned to him and his smile hadn’t dimmed.

“It’s been a good week on the bi-polar front. My dad’s going on about a vacation this summer. He wants to _bond.”_

“A vacation would be nice.”

“It sounds good in theory. I think it’s a little late for father son bonding, though. I’ll be twenty this winter. I love my dad but we’ll never be best buds like he wants.” Jellal leaned into her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I know it’s because I remind him of my mom and that’s hard.”

“He loves you?”

“He does. He’s just not great at _emoting._ And he’s married to his job now.”

“My mom works a lot, too.”

“What’s she do?”

“She’s an attorney for a private advocacy firm. They do stuff for women’s shelters, family shelters, and kids. She handles their legal red tape.”

“You mentioned before that she travels.”

“She does. I know it kills her to be out of pocket while I’m… like this.”

“It’ll be alright, red,” he said quietly, sliding his arm across her shoulders the way she was becoming very used to.

* * *

 

“You look better,” Eileen said hopefully.

“I feel a little better. I’ve remembered some stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was assaulted by the man and woman in my dream.” Erza proclaimed this information more glibly than she’d intended but couldn’t take the words back. Eileen stiffened.

“Assaulted? As in –” Eileen cleared her throat primly and flattened the palms of her hands on the table. “Erza, love, I’ve been pulling some strings at the police department and the university. There’s some things you should know.”

“What kind of things?” Erza tried to shrug off the hardening knot of anxiety in her stomach.

“There’s a police report detailing a bicycle accident on campus. A young woman was injured by a messenger and taken to the university clinic where she was checked in by a nurse.” Eileen shifted in her seat and reached for her bag. The file held only a few papers but Erza felt the impending weight of them. All the printed words swam in front of her. She couldn’t focus on or read any of it. “Erza, the description of the victim fits you.”

“But –”

“According to the clinic intake record, the patient fled the premises in a panic before the nurse practitioner could even see or treat her.” Eileen shuffled through the papers and Erza watched her mother’s eyes scan back and forth. “This was all around five that evening.”

“That’s not what I remember at all.”

“You didn’t arrive at home until nearly eight,” Eileen went on as if she hadn’t heard her at all. “That’s three hours of unaccounted for time.”

“Mom –”

“The young man who brought you into the clinic said his bike was pretty banged up. It was an ugly accident. He said he actually heard your head hit the pavement.”

_“Mom,”_ Erza cut in forcefully.

“What is it?” Eileen glanced up from the papers.

“That’s not me. The report isn’t about me.”

“Erza –”

“I _know_ what happened to me. I remember it all.”

Eileen’s expression was a painful kind of helplessness. Erza wanted to make it better but she couldn’t. If she didn’t have her memories, then what did she have? _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._ Her mind was empty except for the clacking of pink and yellow beads. Erza squared her shoulders.

“I know you’re trying to help, mom, but that police report is mistaken. The guy with the bike is _lying._ ”

“Erza, sweetheart –”

“He _raped_ me,” Erza insisted. “I _remember_ it. Him and that… that woman.”

“What woman, love?”

“The one with the mask.” Erza felt her mother’s gaze searching her face desperately. “I remember it, mom,” she whispered. “They were in the sandwich shop, too. They stalked me and attacked me.”

“They… _assaulted_ you the street?” Her mother stumbled over the word _assaulted_ as if it didn’t quite fit in her mouth.

Erza bristled. “No!”

“But –”

“Why doesn’t anybody believe me?” she blurted with an unintentional edge of anger. “Between you and Doctor Dreyar and Jellal, I swear it’s like I’m speaking in another language!”

“Jellal?” Eileen asked with a tilt of her head.

“I’m tired of everybody telling me I’m crazy!”

“Erza, I never said –”

Erza suddenly stood. “Maybe I _am_ crazy! Maybe it runs in the family!” She didn’t have time to feel guilt over the way Eileen paled or the way her eyes glassed over with unshed tears. “But I’m _not_ crazy about _this._ I _know_ what happened. I _remember_ it.”

“I’m so sorry, Erza.” Eileen hid the papers away in the file folder again and stuffed them in her bag. The disorganized way she zipped it closed and stood _hurt._ She’d never meant to upset her mother. “You’re right. I won’t question you again. I believe you.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” Erza whispered.

“It’s not _you_ who needs to be sorry, love.” Eileen stepped around the table and pressed a kiss to Erza’s forehead. “It’s me.”

“Mom –”

“I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?”

“Okay.” Erza watched her mother go and felt a piece of her heart tear away with an ugly, wet ripping sound.

* * *

 

The damp ropes of her hair left dark spots on the shoulders of her pajamas. She hadn’t bothered to properly dry it after her shower. The whole process felt off and wrong. Erza watched the last rays of filtered sunlight ease across the walls of her room. She used to shower in the morning. Why had she ever… _oh._ Oh, right.

“Hey, red,” a voice beside her said softly. His fingers brushed over the patch of short hair at the base of her skull. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were talking about your mom and then you suddenly weren’t.”

“Was I?”

“Yeah.” Jellal’s voice was an almost-whisper and his eyes, concerned. She felt him touch the stitched together skin lightly. “Are you alright?”

“I think so. I’m just tired.”

“You haven’t taken your night meds yet.”

“Are you sure?” Erza muttered absently. “I thought –”

“Pretty sure.” Jellal gathered her wet hair in his hand and pulled it over one shoulder. “Do you want to dry this before they come with the pills? It might help you sleep better if your pillow isn’t wet.”

“Okay.” But she didn’t move. Erza stared at the blank wall in front of her and twisted her fingers over one another. “Jellal?”

“What is it, red?”

“You believe me right?”

Jellal opened his mouth and she felt his chest expand in a breath beside her. The sound of nurses and orderlies laughing in the hallway cut into the quiet and whatever reply fell from his lips. Erza focused on the squeaking of the wheels as the medicine cart slowly made its way up the hall. Her eyes slid shut and she saw the bicycle wheel turning fast then slow. The sound of the pink and yellow beads clacked loudly in her ear. A male voice was yelling at her about something. The scar on his face wrinkled and a drop of blood slid from his forehead down over his nose. His mouth opened and shut rhythmically but she couldn’t understand his words. Everything sounded like rushing water but he kept screaming at her anyway. Everything circled the drain and suddenly came into focus.

_“Hey!”_ he shouted. _“Hey, lady!”_

“What?” Erza murmured.

_“What the fuck were you doing?”_

“I was...” The man’s scar shifted on his face and turned black. It wasn’t a scar anymore but a tattoo.

_“Hey, red!”_ he roared exasperatedly.

“Red?”

“Erza!” His face went away abruptly when her eyes opened. The room spun and Erza grasped the thing closest to her – an arm. She focused on the rosary tattoo. It was an odd style for a tattoo and circled around and around. “Hey, red, you’re scaring me.”

“What?” Erza blinked and found Jellal. His eyes flit back and forth between hers. It was a sharp knock on her door that finally pulled her out of her thoughts. A nurse’s assistant entered the room with two cups. The smaller one had medication and the other, water.

“It’s that time, Miss Scarlet,” she said matter-of-factly, and held out the cups. “I’ve got you further down my list, Mister Fernandes, but we can take care of your dose now if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Erza felt Jellal’s eyes on her as she swallowed the assortment of pills and crushed the empty paper water cup in her hand. Droplets of water slid between her fingers. She watched them leave dark blue dots on her pajama bottoms. Erza didn’t see the nurse’s assistant go but her departure was marked by the squeaking wheels.

“Are you lost in your head?” he asked once they were alone.

“I don’t mean to be.” Erza finally tossed the cup across the room to the wastebasket. She missed and the wad of paper clattered to the floor. “I’m just trying to work things out.”

“I’ll get you a towel for your hair, okay?”

Erza thought she nodded but wasn’t sure. She listened to the squeaking wheels echoing off the walls and linoleum floors. Things that had been so clear to her over the last few days now felt muddy. It was _infuriating._ Jellal left her a few moments before lights-out with a kiss and she tried to take that with her into sleep.

* * *

 

The bathroom was silent and brightly lit. Erza stood in front of the row of shower stalls clutching her towel, toiletry bag, and fresh clothes. Everything was perfectly clean and welcoming. She hadn’t used the same stall she slipped in front of since the incident but now she stared into it. The spot at the base of her skull tingled. Her fingers tightened in the folds of towels and clothes.

“The stall won’t hurt you,” Mavis said from behind her. Erza hadn’t heard her enter the bathrooms… or maybe she’d already been inside.

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Mavis’s laugh hurt Erza’s ears like a wasp sting.

“Yes,” she insisted. “It wasn’t the stall, it was my shampoo. I knocked it over but forgot… to put it back.”

“You seem to forget a lot of stuff.”

“I –” Erza bit her lip. Interacting with Mavis always set her on edge. She wished the woman would leave her alone.

“I watched you sleeping last night.” The comment was so _startling_ that Erza didn’t respond. “You breathe through your mouth now.”

“What?”

“You used to breathe through your nose. Not anymore, though.” Mavis sighed and her feet slapped the tile floor as she crossed the room. “You should tell your lover to mind his own business.”

“Jellal?”

“The pretty one, yes. He’s mad at me now.” Mavis laughed again. “They’re never afraid of me like they should be. My husband used to tell me I was too cute to be scary. He was wrong, though.”

“Why is Jellal mad at you?” Erza forced herself to focus on _that_ instead of _anything else_ Mavis said or implied.

“He thought I was going to hurt you, I think.” Mavis’s tone turned haughty and offended. “He doesn’t understand. Girls just aren’t pretty the way boys are. Maybe I’ll _make_ him understand. I haven’t decided yet.”

Erza’s breaths were shallow and she thought the room both cold and sticky.

“I should get back to my room. They always check on me in the mornings. It’s like they think I’ll go around doing whatever I want!” The air shifted and Erza knew she’d opened the swinging door that led out into the hallway. “You showered last night, by the way. I remember.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One or two more chapters, I think. Thanks for reading!

_“You doin’ okay back there?” The driver’s voice was harsh but concerned. She thought maybe his concern annoyed him. As if he’d rather be anywhere else than cruising the spiderweb of streets just beyond the university campus._

_“Yeah.” Erza glanced up from the knot of her fingers and met the man’s eyes in his rearview mirror. His forehead crinkled in frustration. The man had a prominent jaw and the pair of glasses perched on his nose looked entirely out of place._

_“You gonna tell me where you’re goin’ or are we gonna circle all night?”_

_“Uh –” She fidgeted and turned her gaze to the window. Rows of houses rolled by and after two blocks she stopped trying to tell them apart. “My mom lives on the hill.”_

_The driver snorted. “Lady, there’s about four hills in this whole shitty city. You’re gonna wanna be more specific.”_

_Erza frowned and her head started to hurt again. She reached up to touch the spot on the back of her head that throbbed – less now than it did before. A sigh slid from between her lips and she felt dead tired._

_“You hungry?” the driver barked. Erza blinked. They’d stopped moving and were parked outside of a pizza parlor._

_“I don’t know.” She felt like crying, not eating._

_“Come on, you look like you haven’t eaten all day.” The leather seats squeaked as he hefted himself from the driver’s seat. Erza noted each of the cracks as they stretched and bent. She blinked rapidly when he opened the passenger door. “Let’s get some food, I’m starving. Then you can tell me which hill your mom lives on.”_

_“Okay.” Erza stood and felt the world tilt. She sucked in a deep nauseating breath and braced herself against the side of the car._

_“You’re not gonna puke, right?”_

_“No.”_

_“Good.”_

_Erza followed the man and kept her eyes between his shoulder blades. The muscles of his back bunched and flexed as he strode purposefully across the parking lot. He held the door open for her and Erza realized she didn’t have her bag or her wallet._

_“I don’t have money,” she whispered even though she did remember having money… before. Before what, though? She didn’t know._

_“I got paid today,” he muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”_

_Once they were seated and he ordered, the man folded his arms on the surface of the table. He had a scar that resembled a lightning bolt on one side of his face. Erza blinked and thought she saw a flash of red dripping down the side of his nose. She closed her eyes tightly when her headache flared. When she looked at him again the lightning bolt scrambled like an out of tune television channel and for a brief moment she thought she could make out a tattoo instead of a scar._

_“You gonna tell me what’s up with you?” The sound of his voice shattered the illusion and Erza realized his scar was just a scar._

_“I’m tired.”_

_“You go to the university? I picked you up three miles down the road.”_

_A waiter brought a tray of pizza and plates. The driver dug in immediately and Erza watched as he licked a drop of sauce from his finger._

“Better eat up, red.”

_Erza blinked slowly. “What did you call me?”_

_“Huh?” The man blinked in confusion before finishing off his pizza and reaching for more. “I didn’t say anything. You should eat something, though.”_

_“Right.” Erza slid a slice of pizza from the tray to her plate. It looked pleasing enough but her stomach rumbled in warning. “Why pizza?” she blurted._

_“I make sandwiches all day,” he said between bites. “Sometimes a guy just wants pizza, you know?”_

_“Yeah.” Erza picked up a fork and scraped all the cheese and sauce into a wad before shoving it into her mouth. It was hot and might’ve burned the roof of her mouth if she hadn’t waited so long to eat._

_“You’re a strange duck,” the driver said, pulling out a wad of cash and leaving it under the edge of the pizza tray. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you in my shop before. No onions, right?” When she didn’t respond he shook his head slightly. “You remember what hill your mom lives on yet?”_

_“The one with all the oak trees,” she offered without much thought. Something that she couldn’t recall not too long ago came very easy now. “The corner of Wisteria and Palm.”_

_“Fancy,” the driver said, raising one eyebrow. Erza shrugged and followed him from the restaurant. Outside, the sun had fallen below surrounding buildings. Rays poked from between the eaves and walls, blinding her until they disappeared from view again. Erza made for the backseat but the driver shifted awkwardly on his feet. “You can sit up front, you know.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I dunno, it makes me feel less like a fucking taxi driver or cop.”_

_“A cop?” Erza stared hard at his face and watched his scar shift into the tattoo again. “Is your dad a cop?”_

_“What?”_

_“You just said...” She heaved a breath and ducked into the front passenger seat. “Never mind.”_

_“You’re a strange duck.”_

_“You already said that.”_

_“So you were listening after all?”_

_“Maybe a little.” Erza smiled at him and relaxed into the seat._

_“We’re about a half hour away from Forest Hill.”_

_“Sorry.”_

“It’ll be alright, red.”

_“What did you say?” Erza turned to him and frowned._

_“I said it’s rush hour and we’re at least a half hour from Forest Hill. You alright for the ride? You were lookin’ a little green inside.”_

_“I’m fine.” She watched him as he brought the car to life and pulled out of the parking lot. Once they were back on the road, Erza let her forehead fall against the window glass. Her head was hurting again and she felt so, so tired. Maybe it would be alright if she fell asleep for just a little bit._

_“Hey,” the driver said harshly. “I’m serious. You alright?”_

_“I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”_

_He grunted and the car began to move again. Erza’s thoughts blurred and she felt the car shift into something more like an office. A voice softer but similar to the driver’s went on about something. She tuned it out._

“Hey, red.”

_“Hm, what?”_

_“Wake up. I need you to tell me which house is yours.”_

_Erza forced her eyes open. The sky was dark and all the street lamps were glowing yellow. She’d always loved this street._

_“Why do you keep calling me red?”_

_“I didn’t. I asked you which house was your mom’s.”_

_“Oh.” Erza straightened in the seat and felt dizziness overtake her. “Uh, it’s the one on the corner of Wisteria and Palm.”_

_“This big brick thing?” The driver leaned forward into the steering wheel as he pulled up along the curb. “Your mom must be something special. This neighborhood ain’t cheap.”_

_“I don’t know,” Erza murmured. She reached for the door handle. “Thank you, Doctor Dreyar.”_

_“What?”_

_“I just said thanks.”_

_“Right.”_

_Erza turned to him once more and focused on his glasses. “When did you get glasses?”_

_“These? They’re backups.” He laughed suddenly. “I hate ‘em but my girl says they make me look smart.”_

_Erza stared at him hard._

_“My contacts don’t like allergy season, I guess,” he tacked on. “Listen, are you alright to make it into the house?”_

_“Yeah, thanks again.” Erza stepped out into the night. The door swung shut behind her and the driver swung a u-turn before disappearing around the corner._

_The house seemed to loom in front of her and Erza rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Somehow the night had grown chilly. She crossed the yard and climbed the steps. Beneath the flowerpot to the right of the door was a silver key – which she left on the edge of the kitchen counter on her way to her bedroom. The house felt different. Almost like she didn’t belong there. As if she didn’t live there at all. She thought her sheets smelled a little stale as she fell into them and wandered into a restless sleep._

Erza bolted up in bed. The first thing she saw were the many sketches of hands. He’d been slowing adding his rosary tattoo to the sketches. Sometimes the beads crossed in the wrong places or the cross sat at the wrong angle on the back of his hand. She wondered if the variations were on purpose.

* * *

 

The length of her room seemed to grow longer and longer with each circuit. Her socks kept the sounds of her feet on the linoleum floor silent. For the fourth time in the last… she didn’t know how long, Erza reached back to touch the patch of shorter hairs at the base of her skull. They were longer now and she could pluck at them with her fingers. Jellal showed more interest in the area than she did. He worried endlessly about her body and every little scrape or cut. She supposed that was fair considering how often she damaged it.

Erza’s concerns were more abstract. She thought a lot about Doctor Dreyar and his glasses and why he’d picked her up on the side of the road. Other times she _knew_ it wasn’t Doctor Dreyar at all – just a man who looked like him. She also fixated on the scar of her attacker – _had_ he attacked her, though? – and Jellal’s tattoo, and woman in the mask, and the driver’s lightning bolt scar she’d dreamed about twice in one week. Sometimes they all twisted together and she had to find a quiet corner to untangle it all.

_“_ _It’ll be alright, red.”_

On impulse, Erza spun on her heel and marched out into the dark hallway. She didn’t bother to check for nurses or anyone else. The trek from her room to Jellal’s was well known to her and she walked the entire distance in the space of four long, calculated breaths. Erza shut his door behind her with more force than intended and the sound of it woke him. He sat up and stared at her in surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked groggily. Erza took in the way his shirt twisted around his torso and the blankets gathered at his waist. His hair poked out every which way and her heart stuttered.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “I can’t stop thinking.”

“Did you take your pills?”

“Yeah. I think I did.”

Jellal sighed and fell back into his pillows. He flung the blankets aside and patted the empty space next to him. The beds were all singles and his back was nearly pressed against the wall.

“You _think_ you did?” he asked softly when she slid beneath his blankets.

“Pretty sure.” Erza brushed her fingertips over the shape of the tattoo that stretched from just above his eyebrow all the way down his cheek. “You never talk about this one,” she whispered.

“It was a mistake.” Jellal closed his hand around her wrist and brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. “The one on my face is the only one I regret.”

“Why?”

“Because it made my mom cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You say that a lot, red.” He smiled and though it was genuine, Erza still felt guilt for being so nosey.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yeah, you should’ve. I don’t have secrets. They only hurt people.”

“Why did it make her cry?”

“Because I got it to hurt her.” Jellal’s smile fell away and he tucked her hand, along with his own, under his chin. “She was in a bad place and said that if I wasn’t careful I’d be just as fucked up as she was.” He sighed and his eyes drifted shut for a moment. “It triggered something in my head and I ran off for a few days. I was barely fourteen and the guy who put it on me had no business doing it. Ultear was there.”

“Ultear?”

Jellal laughed lightly. “She’s the one –”

“Who brings you cigarettes?” Erza cut him off and spared him the admission of abandoning her in a dark, wet hallway.

“That’s her. She’s not _good_ for me but she does keep me in line sometimes.”

“But not that time?”

“No, not that time.” Jellal watched her carefully. “My dad is from another country. I read a bunch of stuff about it for a school project and the tattoo is similar to the ones I saw in a few _very_ old pictures he kept in the garage.”

“What did he say when he saw it?”

“Oh, he was _furious._ Tattooing a minor is illegal – not to mention the cultural implications. He demanded to know who’d done it so he could arrest them.” Jellal’s eyes slid to somewhere beyond Erza’s shoulder. “Mom just cried. She said it was her fault. There was a lot of yelling.”

He released her hand and found a strand of her hair to twist over one finger.

“Exactly one year later...” Jellal trailed off and frowned at the band of red around his finger. “Dad found her in the bathroom. Gruesome stuff.”

“You saw it?” Erza gasped.

“No. No, I wasn’t allowed in there.”

“I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

“It’s okay, red. I’ve been properly _therapized.”_ His grin was crooked and she still loved it.

“That’s not a word.”

“It kind of is.” He inched closer to her. “That summer was the first time I was here. It’s been a long road for me but I think… I think it’s gonna have a pay off.”

“I hope so, Jellal. If anyone deserves a pay off, it’s you.”

His smile was only a little sad before he closed the last few inches between them and kissed her. Erza let him press her into the mattress and move between her legs. His fingers, though dusted as always with charcoal, didn’t leave marks on her skin this time. Jellal kissed her with a fervor she let seep into every crack of her fractured mind and soul. She didn’t think or even close her eyes. Erza focused every shred of her attention on him.

Jellal’s fingers danced over the scars on her arm and the side of her neck. He left feather light kisses on the marks that were now nothing but fine white lines. Erza’s lips parted and she whispered the first words that came to mind.

“They’re ugly.”

“No, they’re a part of you,” he breathed into her skin. “And every part of you is beautiful.”

“Even the fucked up parts?”

“Especially the fucked up parts. That’s what makes you _you,_ red.”

Erza took his face in the palms of her hands and kissed him fiercely. She felt completely herself and _present._

* * *

 

Eileen’s face was placid but Erza knew her mother well enough to recognize discomfort when she saw it. A file folder lay open on Doctor Dreyar’s low table and Erza stared at it as if it were something offensive. Maybe it was.

“Have a seat, Miss Scarlet.”

“What’s this about?” Erza demanded, her hands curling into tight fists.

“Erza, _please,”_ her mother begged. “Please just sit down.”

Erza lowered herself into the chair and tried to remember to breathe. Eileen looked to Doctor Dreyar who leaned forward.

“Miss Scarlet, we’ve uncovered some facts that you should be made aware of.” Erza’s gut twisted painfully and her head spun.

“What kind of facts?”

Doctor Dreyar cleared his throat and Eileen shifted in her chair so she was perched on the very edge.

“Erza, love, they found the young man who hit you with his bike.” Erza felt her mother’s gaze acutely. “He’s about your age and a bicycle messenger for the administration building.”

_Clack… clack… clack…_ yellow and pink beads slid down the spokes of the wheels in her mind. Erza closed her eyes and watched the drop of blood slide over his nose and scatter in the lines of his scar.

“He said he didn’t see you until it was too late and his brakes locked up.”

“I don’t understand. That’s not… I mean...”

“Miss Scarlet, one of the markers of paranoid schizophrenia is delusion. This is a fixed belief you have despite evidence proving otherwise.”

“You think I’m delusional?” Erza whispered around the lump in her throat. Her mind scrabbled to hold on to the things she’d been trying _so hard_ to believe and work around.

“Your anxiety visibly peaks whenever these delusions start to show signs of not holding up.”

“But –” Suddenly Eileen was beside her on the small couch. She pried Erza’s hands apart and took them into her own.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, sweetheart, it’s just that there is a preponderance of evidence that shows your version of what happened isn’t the case at all.”

“I just...” Erza tried to fight off the tears but she was tired. Like Jellal, she was _tired._ “I just remember so many things. I _remember_ him touching me and… and that woman...”

“Is this the woman you remember?” Doctor Dreyar slid what looked like a blown up photo of someone’s work identification badge. Erza’s heart rate spiked and she squeezed her mother’s hands painfully tight.

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s her. The one with the claws. She makes me feel things I don’t like.”

“She’s a nurse at the university clinic,” Eileen whispered softly. “She checked you in and got you an icepack for your head.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Erza sobbed. “I only remember…” she trailed off and tried to grasp at the serpent and the claws but they fizzled.

Eileen reached up and brushed Erza’s hair from her eyes. “It’s okay, love. This isn’t something that’s your fault.”

“You had a violent reaction to regaining consciousness and fought off two nurses before fleeing the clinic. Campus security was notified but the clinic there really isn’t equipped to handle anything other than sickness or minor injuries.” Doctor Dreyar, slid the nurse’s photograph back between the sheets of paper. “Do you remember anything at all about the missing three hours?”

“I –” Erza’s eyes focused on the bridge of Doctor Dreyar’s nose. _Why_ wasn’t he wearing his glasses? “Your glasses,” she muttered. “You had them, I know you did.”

“Miss Scarlet, I’ve never worn glasses.”

“You had a lightning bolt on your eye.” Eileen tried to swallow her sigh but Erza heard it anyway. “Mom, you have to believe me! I _saw_ it. He had a scar on his face just like the guy with the bike and just like Jellal.”

“Erza, who is Jellal?”

“He’s my...” Erza abruptly cut herself off. What _was_ Jellal? She didn’t know and the question clawed an even larger hole in the bottom of her boat.

“Mister Fernandes is another patient,” Doctor Dreyar offered. “They’ve become close. He does have a tattoo on the right ride of his face.”

“Mom, listen to me. Maybe I’ve gone completely mad but I _know_ there were glasses and a scar.”

“Erza –”

“I think we should take a break,” Doctor Dreyar said briskly. “We don’t want to overwhelm you, Miss Scarlet. This is a lot to process.” He stood and addressed Eileen directly. “I think an official diagnosis will help us ease onto the road of proper medications. It’s a little tough to shoot in the dark and simply react to her symptoms.”

“Of course,” Eileen said, nodding. Erza watched the exchange with mounting panic. She felt like she couldn’t breathe at all. Like she was treading water.

“I have to go,” she blurted suddenly. Erza stood and fled the office. She heard her mother calling after her and Doctor Dreyar speaking but didn’t stop.

The courtyard was empty. This felt like yet another betrayal. Rain pelted the expanse of grass beyond the concrete and Erza stood only a breath away from the spray of it. The breeze coming off the storm cooled the hot tears on her cheeks. _Everything_ felt unstable and dangerous.

“Hey, red,” Jellal said from behind her. “I saw you take off. Everything alright?”

“No,” she whispered. “Nothing is alright. Nothing is real anymore. I made it all up.”

Jellal didn’t speak. He gathered her hair over one shoulder and touched the tuft of scarlet that was slow to catch up. Erza felt his lips brush over the curve of her neck and his arms wind their way around her body.

“Promise me that _you’re_ real.” His embrace tightened and Erza thought maybe she wouldn’t fall completely apart.

“I’m real.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Jellal’s grip on her was firm but she still felt like the floor had disappeared beneath her feet and she couldn’t stop falling.


	7. Chapter 7

Doctor Dreyar’s expression was the same as it always had been with only a few exceptions. She knew he was waiting for her to say something but Erza’s throat felt tight. She didn’t know _what_ to say anymore. Every time she climbed even one rung out of the hole she’d been stuck in, it snapped.

“How is the _seroquel_ working out for you?”

“I feel less anxious, I think.”

“Miss Scarlet, now that we’re in treatment territory it’s very important that we properly monitor your reactions to medications.”

“Right,” she whispered, focusing more easily than she’d been able to in months. “I do feel less anxious and worked up all the time.”

“What about any disorientation?”

“I don’t feel like I’m lost in conversations anymore. I can follow someone speaking to me and not get confused.”

Doctor Dreyar nodded and leaned forward to sift through the papers on his table. Erza watched the edges of stark white slide over the grain pattern.

“Your CT scans came back and the pressure on your brain has returned to a much more regulated level.”

“Okay.”

“You seem pensive.”

“Do I?”

He relaxed, as much as Doctor Dreyar ever relaxed, against the back of his chair and studied her. “Over the course of your treatment here I’ve noticed that you tend to seek validation from others when addressing your state.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Just now I mentioned that you seemed pensive and immediately you asked asked me to qualify that observation. Are you aware of how you feel in this moment?”

“I guess.”

“Is there a reason you have a hard time asserting your own feelings? If I hadn’t mentioned that you seemed pensive would you have ignored your discomfort?”

“I’m just… cautious, I think.” Erza bit her lip and revisited all the boarded up windows of her mind. So many things that had once been certain were now lost to her. “I really did believe I’d been raped by two strangers.” she whispered. “I _saw_ it in my head over and over. It felt so real. When you showed me the nurse’s picture it was like being kicked in the chest.”

“You had a visceral reaction.”

“And it wasn’t even warranted or real at all. I have no reason to fear that woman. She doesn’t have claws and the guy who ran into me on his bike… there was no snake or anything.”

“Miss Scarlet this is the first time since you’ve been in my care that you’ve sounded sure of yourself without any manic subtext.”

“I really do feel more in control of myself.”

“That’s good. I’d like to ask you again why you were pensive a moment ago.”

Erza sighed and brought the braid of hair over her shoulder. She felt a few loose strands at her neck sneak free. Jellal was good with plaits but he couldn’t make the shorter hairs that grew over her scar behave even though they were a few inches longer.

“It’s just a silly thing.”

“I don’t believe it’s silly. This is a safe space, Miss Scarlet. Don’t devalue your own recovery.”

“It’s just… the glasses.” She glanced up at him. “I’m still working through everything that happened and I think I understand the sequence of it except for that one thing.”

Doctor Dreyar eyed her intently before reaching for his phone that sat on the table beside his chair. He only ever used it for clocking their sessions.

“Part of the doctor patient relationship is maintaining a healthy focus on your life and not mine, Miss Scarlet. I wouldn’t normally divulge any kind of irrelevant personal information to a patient but I think in this case there might be a small, isolated exception.”

“I don’t understand.”

Doctor Dreyar slid his phone across the surface of the table. The picture displayed was of a man and a woman Erza didn’t know at all, but she recognized the man immediately. He had a scar that snaked down from above his eyebrow to his cheek in the shape of a lightning bolt. His blonde hair was just this side of respectably tidy. The platinum-haired woman beside him smiled brightly but the man’s own smile wasn’t much more than a glower.

“Who is that?” Erza whispered. “I feel like I’ve seen him dozens of times and...” she trailed off and peered closer. “In my dreams he drove me around in his car before taking me to my mom’s.”

“That’s my nephew. He’s about your age and works at the sandwich shop on campus part-time.”

“You don’t look much alike.”

“The resemblance was enough for you to fixate on it.” Doctor Dreyar retrieved his phone and his expression settled back into familiarity. “He doesn’t typically wear glasses either but I guess –”

“It was allergy season,” Erza blurted. “He told me that.”

“How does this new information make you feel?”

Erza laughed and fell back against the chair cushion. “Honestly? Relieved. It’s nice to know I’m not _completely_ crazy.”

“Have you recalled anything else about that afternoon.”

“Not really. I don’t know that I’m trying very hard either.”

“Miss Scarlet, the point wasn’t to remember what happened in excruciating detail. We needed to pinpoint what was happening to you and determine treatment. The process of working out a proper medication dosage is an ongoing thing but it’s very important that you’ve reached a point of comfort.”

“I still dream of the serpent sometimes,” she muttered shamefully. “I don’t know how to make that stop.”

“You know the difference between dreams, memories, and reality now, Miss Scarlet. That’s the important part.”

“Do you think the snake will leave eventually?”

“Maybe. The unconscious is a tricky thing. Do the dreams still frighten you?”

“Yeah, I –” Erza cut herself off from finishing her sentence with a question that would lead to qualifiers. “I know when I wake up that it isn’t real.”

Doctor Dreyar’s phone began to vibrate and Erza felt her shoulders sag.

“We’ll meet again in a few days and revisit your dosage. This particular drug can take anywhere from six to eight weeks to fully impact you.”

“Okay.”

Even though Erza knew the session was productive she still felt hollowed out when she left Doctor Dreyar’s office behind.

* * *

 

Jellal’s desk was a mess of brightly colored travel brochures. Erza glanced through them before stretching out beside him on his bed.

“I guess that vacation is happening?”

“Yeah. He’s set on it.” Jellal rolled his head to the side and grinned. “I didn’t think they made those paper things anymore. My dad probably walked into a real life travel agency.”

“He sounds thorough,” Erza said, smiling. Her chest only ever felt so light when she was with Jellal or her mother. The thought of him _leaving_ was unbearable even though Erza knew it was inevitable.

“He’s nothing if not thorough. That’s what makes him a great cop.”

“Do you live at home?”

“Sometimes. I do have a place but it’s mostly empty.” His face flushed lightly. “I don’t like to be alone,” Jellal muttered. “If that makes sense to you.”

Erza imagined a loft containing nothing but a scattered collection of sketch books, broken charcoals, and a bed he filled with women whose names were left on the floor with their clothes.

“It makes sense.”

“Being at home is hard. My dad has turned it into a place that’s _his_ even though he insists I can come home anytime. It’s like...” Jellal folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “It’s like he’s cut out all the ugly stuff in what used to be our family and only left the pretty parts.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s not bad, red. It’s just difficult for me to compile it all. I think we’ve both memorialized mom but in different ways that are incompatible.”

“You really have been _therapized,”_ she said with a light laugh.

“I told you.” The room fell silent and Erza watched his chest rise and fall. “Are you gonna go back to school?”

“I want to but I don’t know how well brain injuries and schizophrenia will mesh with university life.”

“You can take as long as you want, red.”

“I’m afraid of relapsing or hitting my head again or something else equally horrible. Doctor Dreyar has brought up psychosocial therapies.”

Jellal suddenly rolled over to his side. He took the end of the braid she wore more often than not between two fingers and brushed his thumb over the tuft of hair. “You can’t live in fear. It’s not even really living. Fear will trample all over you and not fucking care at all. Go to the therapies and take them seriously. It’ll help.”

“My friend Kagura wants to come see me,” she murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I want her to see all this.”

“Do you think she’ll judge you for something that’s not your fault at all? She wouldn’t be much of a friend if she did that.”

“She wouldn’t. I’m just afraid of being a spectacle.”

“You’re not a spectacle, red. _I’m_ the spectacle.” Erza’s tension cracked and she laughed. “It’s true. I’ve got a tattoo on my face and everything.”

“I like your tattoos. Even the one you hate.”

“I’m glad someone does.” He smiled again and she touched his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.

“Are you coming back after your trip with your dad?”

“Probably not. I _hope_ not.”

“I’m stuck for another six to eight weeks after my next session with Doctor Dreyar.”

“I’ll give you my number. When you get another phone, call me.”

“Do you go to the university in town?”

“Not anymore. I dropped out pretty quick. Before I relapsed and found myself in here again I was working on my bartend license.”

“I think that suits you.”

“I liked it. They let me do the chalk designs on the specials boards, too. It was a good schedule. Maybe they’ll take me back.”

“You deserve to be happy, Jellal.”

“So do you, red. I think you just need to be reminded sometimes.”

“I’ll make sure I find you after the summer so you can remind me.”

“I’d like that very much.” He left a kiss on her lips that brought her back to his room every night for the remainder of the week.

* * *

 

Kagura’s smile was hesitant but relieved. She wrapped her arms around Erza and the sensation of _acceptance_ felt warmer than the climbing summer heat.

“How are you?” she asked, taking a seat directly beside Erza. “I’ve been so worried. Your mom asked me to help get your stuff from the dorms. I boxed it up as carefully as I could.”

“I trust you, Kagura.” Erza sighed and let a smile stretch across her face. “And I miss you.”

_“Good,”_ she said with force. “Because I miss you, too.” Kagura sat primly on the loveseat and folded her hands on her knees. _This_ was the friend Erza recognized. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I feel like all I’ve done is talk about it for the last four months.”

Kagura bit her lip in embarrassment. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You couldn’t possibly. I’m just glad I can actually tell you now instead of some wild made up stuff.” Kagura raised one eyebrow and Erza flushed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Erza. You’re my best friend and I only care about how you are _now.”_

“It’s not that I mind talking about it, I just don’t want to scare you off. Things aren’t ever going to be like they were before.” Erza twisted her fingers in the exact way she was trying to _stop_ twisting her fingers. Kagura’s hand closed around her wrist.

“Erza, I know that and it doesn’t matter. I mean, it _does,_ I just meant –”

“I know what you meant.” Erza sighed. “It’s a good day today. I feel good. Like my feet actually touch the ground.”

“Good. I’m really, really glad, Erza.”

Erza wanted to tell her best friend about the boy with all the tattoos but when confronted with her _outside_ life, he didn’t seem real. The gap between Jellal and _his_ life and her own life felt miles wide.

* * *

 

His fingers pressed into the cigarette ash and after a moment, Erza noticed a pattern emerging.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, glancing away to take in the sunset. The spring rain had mostly moved on, leaving a sticky humid film on everything.

“How stressful this trip with my dad is going to be,” he said quietly. “He’s a real nut about certain things. I think even if I remember my meds every single day, he’ll still drive me crazy.”

“How do you remember to do that when nobody brings them to you?”

“I set alarms on my phone.” He paused and brushed all the ash away. “But if I lose my phone or forget it, I’m fucked.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

Jellal’s lips twitched into the crooked grin that still turned Erza’s stomach over. “Yeah, it does, red. I’m not very good with all that stuff. Neither was my mom.”

“I think I’ll remember my pills.”

“Remembering won’t be your problem,” he whispered. “Your issue will be convincing yourself that it’s okay to leave your mom’s house again. Or your apartment. Or dorm. Where ever you end up living.”

“Am I really so obvious?”

Jellal laughed. “Very.”

“I think my anxiety is better now, though.”

“Good. Just remember to tell yourself every day that nothing is as big of a deal as you make it out to be in your head. Be brave.”

“Maybe I’ll set a reminder on my phone.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and Erza could feel his unease seeping into her side.

“I’ll miss you, red.”

“Promise me you won’t go grey before I can find you again.”

“I promise.”

* * *

 

Erza couldn’t stand to watch him leave. She waited in her room for him to stop by before his dad signed him out. For the first time in a month Erza was pacing again. He pressed a torn fold of paper into her palm and kissed her goodbye.

“Keep in touch, red.”

“I will.”

She didn’t.

* * *

 

Mavis’s feet swung back and forth over the tiled floor of the bathroom. Erza stared at her before tightening the towel under her arms.

“How long have you been in here?” she asked in a whisper that bounced off every square of tile until it was no longer a whisper.

“A while.” Mavis’s long blonde hair was a rat’s nest of tangles.

“What do you want?”

“When I look at you I see him. I guess that’s what happens when you rub your naked body on someone else.”

A frustrated sound clawed it’s way from Erza’s throat. She turned away from Mavis and stepped behind the tiled wall to change into her night clothes. Showering in the morning still wasn’t a thing she could handle doing.

“You know the funny thing is that the universe always comes back around on itself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erza muttered from behind the wall. She wished Mavis would say her peace and leave.

“There’s always some dangling string that’s tangled up with another somewhere up higher. Like Doctor Dreyar and that pretty nephew of his.”

Erza froze. Her heart skipped a beat and her skin felt cold.

“Your lover’s dad isn’t as pretty as him but I suppose he’s old.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Erza demanded, pulling her shirt down over her body and peeking around the edge of the wall.

“I’m just pointing out what a great big orgy it all is.” Her grin was as sharp as the fine point of a needle. “His daddy put my husband away forever. I’ll never forget it.” Mavis’s feet suddenly stopped swinging. “I still haven’t decided if it’s a favor or if I hate him.”

“Mavis –”

“Maybe if I see your pretty lover again I’ll make my choice.”

“How do you know all this stuff about people?” Erza asked despite better sense. Mavis wasn’t the type of person who should be encouraged.

“The nurses at the station near the elevators never lock their computer.” She shrugged. “Computers are easier than people. They speak easier languages.” Mavis leaned forward and her feet finally brushed the tile floor. “Did you know everybody’s medications are listed in there? It’s super easy to poke a nose in. Humans are so dumb. They don’t remember things anymore. Computers keep track of it all.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Only that it’ll be lonely when you’re gone. I’ll miss watching you.”

Erza watched Mavis go with her heart in her throat. She wished Jellal was still around but then immediately felt guilty for it. He was better now. At least she _hoped_ he was.

* * *

 

Erza’s world caught up to her just as fast as her medications could pull her onto the flat surface of a relatively stable plateau. Somewhere between her room at the hospital and the bedroom she grew up in, the folded scrap of paper Jellal had given her became lost. It was a private loss that grieved her heart. Jellal had become a staple of her existence during a time when she desperately needed staples. Even with that knowledge, Erza also knew she didn’t want to rely on something as flimsy and confusing as love. She needed her own foundation and walls. Over the course of the summer and into early autumn, Erza lined up the bricks of her new life. She had her mother and Kagura and her doctors and an alarm on her phone reminding her to be brave.

_And_ every Wednesday when she ordered her sandwich in the small shop on campus the man with the lightning bolt on his face, Laxus she learned, always remembered her. _No onions._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps this is a cruel and abrupt way to end the story proper but please stick around for a brief epilogue. This was never a story about love fixing the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! Thanks so much for reading!

Erza opened the lid of the first Thursday compartment. She swallowed her pills with exactly eight ounces of water and crushed the plastic water bottle before tossing it into the blue recycle bin. Her books were lined up on the table in the order she’d need them. It wasn’t exactly convenient for her to return to her room after every class but Erza needed to do it. The last month had been more difficult than most and _remembering_ to do _really important things_ escaped her at least once a week. Kagura had helped her cultivate a schedule that mostly catered to her specific needs.

One of the first lessons Erza had learned was that she needed help. She couldn’t tough it out and do everything on her own like she wanted. Her life was a complex maze of strings attached to pins and every single pin was necessary.

She jumped when her phone alarm blared. Erza slid the first book, a binder of paper, a bag of writing utensils, and a hardcopy list of her schedule into her bag. On her way out the door she grabbed her phone and silenced the alarm. As always, the text in all capital letters read, _BE BRAVE!_

* * *

 

_‘_ _I’ll wait for you in the beer garden.’_ Erza checked Kagura’s text for the third time and tugged the sleeves of her sweater down over her palms. She watched the crowd across the street mill and churn.

“You can do this,” Erza whispered to herself. “It’s just a tiny festival. You can walk in a big circle, look at the art, and then leave.”

A couple nudged by her and Erza quickly stepped to the side muttering her apologies for being in the way. Maybe she should just leave _now_. Maybe… her phone vibrated again.

_‘Don’t you dare bail, Erza. I can feel you over thinking it. Come meet me in the garden.’_

“Right,” she muttered. “I’m over thinking. Of course. This is fine.” Erza stepped off the curb and crossed the street. She knew the beer garden was on the other side of the park but didn’t make a bee-line. She wandered through and around the displays just to see if she could be comfortable alone and in a crowd.

_‘Did you get lost?’_ Kagura’s next message drew a smile.

_‘No, I’m just trying to take everything in.’_

_‘I’ll come find you then. Where are you?’_

_‘I’m close to this big display of painted barrels.’_

_‘Gotcha.’_

Erza slid her phone back into her pocket and eased around the awkwardly stacked barrels. She wasn’t much into art and most of it felt beyond her comprehension. Kagura’s head of black hair came into view and Erza waved. Her anxiety calmed and as breathed in a lungful of the early spring chill, she spun around. The view behind her tripped her heart over itself.

He wore a faded black hoodie under another canvas-type jacket. In front of him was a little girl holding out a ragged handful of gerbera daisies. With a smile, he took the flowers in exchange for a sheet of sketch paper covered in protection tissue. He suddenly stood and turned. Erza fidgeted when his eyes found her. She wasn’t sure if she should approach him or if she should let him decide if he wanted to see her. The crooked smile that crept across his face said enough.

“It’s been a minute, red.” His voice felt different out in the open air. He _looked_ different. Less sad. Less caged.

“It’s been _several_ minutes,” she said softly, approaching his table. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“Would you still’ve come if you’d known?”

Erza smiled and glanced over the pages of sketch paper and charcoal renderings. “I’d like to think so.” She focused on one drawing of a braid of hair. The woven strands were incredibly detailed. “You’ve improved, I think.”

“I’ve been focusing on it more.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “There’s some images I can’t really get out of my head.”

Erza’s cheeks warmed and she changed the subject. “Did you get your old job back?”

“I did! I completed the certification so it’s all above board.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m working on it.” He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d spotted her. “What about you?”

“I started school again last August. It’s a slower track but I think that’s important for me right now.” Erza tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and tried to fight off her embarrassed blush. “I don’t take enough classes to have a dorm so I rented a room nearby.”

“And you feel safe there and all that?”

“I do. The lady who owns the house used to work with my mom so I think that helped her come around to the idea of me living on my own.”

“I’m happy for you, red.”

“Uh, I’m sorry for not calling you.”

“Don’t apologize. Things happen.” A light breeze ruffled the budding branches of trees overhead and she watched his eyes follow the strands of her hair that were caught up in it. Erza decided she felt brave.

“Maybe if you’re not too busy sometime we could...” Erza trailed off and floundered. “I mean, I was just wondering if you wanted to talk or… something?”

“Anything at all, red. I’m wide open.”

“Great!” The word bubbled up and came out faster than she could temper the excitement in it. “Uh,” Erza glanced back over her shoulder and saw Kagura watching her beside the barrels. “I should go, though. I came with a friend.”

Jellal nodded and reached behind his card table and into a crate of sheathed sketches. He pulled the pencil from behind his ear and wrote out his phone number on the corner of the tissue paper.

“I want you to have this one.” He handed her the sketch and Erza held it against her chest. “Don’t loose my number this time, red. I don’t know if I can get so lucky twice.”

“I promise I won’t lose it.” She felt her face heating again and turned to go. “It was good to see you, Jellal.”

“I hope it won’t be the last time.”

“I don’t think it will.” Erza felt his eyes on her until she and Kagura moved deeper into the park.

* * *

 

The page protected by tissue paper Jellal had given her was so much more than just a sketch. He’d drawn the curve of her neck perfectly right down to the fine lines of the scars that she could still see if she really _tried._ Her hair hung over her shoulder and on the very edge of her hairline she could make out a patch of shorter hairs just long enough to poke through the longer strands. The way her head turned toward him cast a shadow on her neck. Erza thought maybe he’d dragged an image of her from his memories of their moments in the shaded courtyard. Those shadows had always crawled across her shoulders and lap in this exact way.

She reached for her phone.

_‘_ _Your work_ _is beautiful.’_

_‘_ _Thanks, red.’_

_‘I’m sorry for losing your number. It wasn’t on purpose.’_

_‘I know.’_

Erza chewed her lip and decided to be brave.

_‘Are you busy?’_

_‘Nope.’_

_‘Come see me?’_

She sent her address and frantically tidied her small space – even though it was already in a near-immaculate state. Erza never had visitors other than Eileen or Kagura but she couldn’t stand clutter. She circled all her furniture and fluffed pillows until he knocked on the door.

Like a good hostess, Erza took his coat and hung it beside hers on the door. There was a moment of awkward silence before she gave into the impulse to snake her arms around his waist and press her body against his. Jellal was warm and smelled like cigarettes and something sweet she couldn’t name. She _almost_ sighed when his fingers found their home in her hair.

“I missed you, red,” he whispered. “I wanted to find you but I wasn’t really –”

“I wasn’t ready for you to find me until I saw you in the park,” she interrupted softly. “I had some things I needed to accomplish before I could even try to look.”

“I told you it would be alright.”

Erza pulled away and swallowed the lump in her throat she didn’t want to be there. “You did.”

She pulled him further into her small living space and offered him cookies and tea before she found him directly behind her. The relief of not having to pursue him was like the first blast of Autumn chill after a sticky summer. He kissed her and all her pretenses fizzled.

Erza didn’t want to serve him cookies and tea. She wanted his hands on her body. She wanted his charcoal stained fingertips sifting through her hair. And she wanted him to _stay._

In the low light of her bedroom she decided her sheets looked good on him. The experience of having him in her _own_ bed with no worries of being found and reprimanded was new and exciting. His colors were no longer bleeding and over saturated nor were they the broken flat grey she hated. Erza decided her favorite color was the purple somewhere between red and blue.


End file.
